I touch you as a lonely violin touches the suburbs of the faraway place
patiently the river asks for its share of the drizzle
and, bit by bit, a tomorrow passing in poems approaches
so I carry faraway’s land and it carries me on travel’s road
On a mare made of your virtues, my soul weaves
a natural sky made of your shadows, one chrysalis at a time.
I am the son of what you do in the earth, son of my wounds
that have lit up the pomegranate blossoms in your closed-up gardens
Out of jasmine the night’s blood streams white. Your perfume,
my weakness and your secret, follows me like a snakebite. And your hair
is a tent of wind autumn in color. I walk along with speech
to the last of the words a bedouin told a pair of doves
I palpate you as a violin palpates the silk of the faraway time
and around me and you sprouts the grass of an ancient place—anew
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Innermost One by Rabindranath Tagore
- Robert Burns: The Lass O’ Ballochmyle:
- Владимир Маяковский – Даешь материальную базу
- The Gateway
- Владимир Маяковский – Смотри, рабочий! Вот о чем сегодня речь (Главполитпросвет №166)
- To A Young Writer by Yvor Winters
- English Poetry. Rupert Chawner Brooke. The Vision of the Archangels. Руперт Брук.
- The Actor by Preeth Nambiar
- To A Young Lady Who Had Been Reproached For Taking Long Walks In The Country by William Wordsworth
- Event by Sylvia Plath
- A Singer by William Allingham
- Robert Burns: Second Epistle To J. Lapraik:
- traveling.html
- The Bonny Hind poem – Andrew Lang poems
- Mark The Concentrated Hazels That Enclose by William Wordsworth
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
