Everything
Everything's looted, betrayed and traded,
black death’s wing’s overhead.
black death’s wing’s overhead.
Everything’s eaten by hunger, unsated,
so why does a light shine ahead?
By day, a mysterious wood, near the town,
breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume.
By night, on July’s sky, deep, and transparent,
new constellations are thrown.
And something miraculous will come
close to the darkness and ruin,
something no-one, no-one, has known,
though we’ve longed for it since we were children.
4 comments:
I Love this poem. It has an interesting cadence to it. Wonderful images are aroused in her lines. A new poet for me. Thanks so much for this, and I love the photo you've used to illustrate. It fits perfectly.
Hello Teresa. Thank you very much. It's interesting to see a poet from Russia. I also like the poem very much.
Cheers to you and Buddy!
Grethe
i was introduced to Russian Literature when young so I can't help but love this poem...it has a sense of the sadness of the Russian heart.
Hej Gerry!
I know what you mean, it's the Slavic soul, great in sadness and great in joy, never mediocre.
Grethe
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