The mystery of the Muse

The breeze peeked into the pockets
And rustled in the pavilion of winds
The enigma of the clouds strangely
Covered gently the sky with a veil.

The day before an evening party
Clank noisily  under raised glasses
The morning came with a respond -
A flow of abusive words sprawned...

What soulful songs were being played
Among the fellows and remembrance
And chalk inscriptions talked of love on pavements
Was it accidental?

A quatrain is a secret of a Muse
It is an impact of champagne
Or maybe an excitement from the Blues?
The pavement says, the voice refrains.

The first affection is alive!
It keeps on bothering the heart
You are the incarnation of the God!
Am I drunk or am I sober?

A prophetic dream of the omniscience is in the grey;
And the shade of a child goes sideways,
Ahead and along astray.
Youth!Your ringing voice always sounds on my way!

Moscow, September, 10, 2020.
Перевод стихов, автор А. Казачий. Ссылка на публикацию:
http://stihi.ru/2020/09/14/1873