Sit back and calm your spirit in the shadow,
A place that one in dreams may only find:
Asylum-like and graveyard-quiet meadow
Defying sense, bestirring clear mind.
The vale of rest! a country to astound,
With figures fair unchangeable in role:
A working nun who slowly digs the ground,
A warning nun who looks into your soul.
This sacrament was wisely numbered seven -
Weep, chilly dusk, and hold your fading breath!
An inky cloud's sailing in the heaven,
So coffin-shaped a harbinger of death.
It’s passing by so softly that you stare
At rosy dusk foretelling only woes.
Thank God there is an earthly haven where
The weary ones may finally repose.
Jade-coloured sun makes evening clouds sear.
What's in a name? That which we call a Word
By any other name would be as clear
As this fair vale so tranquil and unstirred.
The Vale of Rest
© Copyright: Ксения Хрусталева, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113091506195
Свидетельство о публикации №113091506195
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