By Yasen Vedrin
(Fulfilled Premonitions)
With the white swans do I still float and glide
Within the crystal lakes of your bright eyes?
Do they take flight into the blue, wide,
Do silver droplets on soft feathers rise?
Free in their grace, in silent swoon they stay,
Do they dip beaks in waters pure and clear?
When I touch you — so innocent, white, clay —
Do I chase words and traces in your sphere?
Swans — birds of calling, birds that will forget!
The lake-like shyness of fulfilled days past.
I hold you for a moment, but look yet:
Forever white and for me, stay at last...
No comments:
Post a Comment