Letter to Prague

My Prague…
What is to be your friend?
My Prague…
I am your soul, I know it.
About my complicated Eastern gend.
I don’t rely on passed times
Complication.

About days in Prague
And nights when I was free
From any sigh
From any life devotion,
I know that’s possible
My soul motion
To do just what my heart can do
Alone and not alone.

Your music, Prague,
Musicians in a place
Of palace and a gold
In soldiers weapon.
Their music woodwind
And a bass was free
Like touch of breath,
Like touch of leaf,
to set off.

My Prague.
I know you in a night.
I know you  in a day,
When I was free like bird,
Just flying from your
Stones and back,
You heard
My joy to be in you,
My joy to see your
Relics.
And statues talking
Were with me,
Lake prayers
Oh, Prague,
My soften Prague,
The daughter of my love.

All chance to see
The pic of tower
Flying to the sky.

A dance of Sun
On rivers water and
The bridge I’ve crossed it
 
A stars on line
Of night
And
Mysteries, passing by
With face of King
From France.
And Queen, I’m sure, it….

It is my Prague.
The place to meet my life.
To meet my youth
That I’ve just left
Yes, there.
When I was twenty,
thirty, oh, whenever.
I met myself in Prague,
With you,
My mirrow.
Soul.
And fad.

July 27, 2011