 |
| Konstantin Vasiliev, Swans |
you walk most often
in a place where only
the stream and the clouds can be heard
and in the mornings
walking is without crying, despairing
How lovely it is
to hear you singing in the afternoons
under the jasmin tree
that grew from my prayers
by that tree I am mute
bound by incomprehensibilities
What if I left
before the tide
and wrote a thousand letters to you
by nightfall
Would you dream of me?
Would you miss me by the path
you walk most often?
In the place where only the secret birds can be heard
and the sighs of the pansies and roses.
No comments:
Post a Comment