(by Jane Batischeva)
That’s only one thing I kept –
To breeze my poems in,
To breeze my air out,
The air that has got warm now.
I’m a deaf-mute in disguise,
Humming to myself about distant stars,
With my eyes sinking in the sky behind bars –
Oh, my song is about those pale stars
who, like us,
are so fragile…
- That’s only one thing I kept –
The drafts. The silent wind in the oak’s crown.
Willow twigs – all that remains of an ancient cage
Of the tame, fed-by-hand bird of my own.
Silence reigns in the garden of night –
It is not impossible that
I can tame the most distant star
Feeding her by my bird’s bread.
(Penticost, 2011)
http://www.stihi.ru/2011/06/11/8062
The Bird
© Copyright: Ольга Шульчева-Джарман, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111061203910
Свидетельство о публикации №111061203910
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