Poplar, chestnut
flare to green;
taupe dust tassels
wooden wheels
on horse-drawn carts
in old precincts;
trams ply Fehervari Street.
The sun, a fruit
tossed high in May,
richly burnished
grenadine, wilts roses
on Gellert's Hill,
a febrile and seductive flame.
Gypsy strings stir
peonies
in breasts and thighs,
ensorcelled brain:
virag virag virag
will this tiny bud
become a child?
How could I
forget the Danube:
perfume, pollen,
gold Tokay;
gardens steeped
in cherry trees and memories;
Hapsburg cafes,
paprika and peonies,
poplars shading cobbled lanes;
a boy born of an ardent summer,
secret gift of Budapest.
for Romany
The peonies of Budapest
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110081900685
Свидетельство о публикации №110081900685
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