the
year comes to an end,
and my days depart. . .
the wind's verdict:
there is cold freezing my soul. . .
stronger than the wind's melody
your voice attracts me;
stronger than a violet's perfume,
your breath excites me
stronger than the moon
your eyes draw me—
when I think of you,
then I do not envy even the gods.
the
year comes to an end,
and my days depart. . .
the wind's verdict:
there is cold freezing my soul. . .
I
recollect with love
that evening with you;
now—a lonely bed, cold
as hoarfrost on seagulls' wings
flying above the river.
the
fruit remains untouched
by anyone;
so who can say
that it is sour?
Ducks on a river…
Can I look at them
Indifferently?
So like them , I cross the waters
Of that sad world…
© 2001 by panther's feather