вони відчували що мають зустрітись колись
ті двоє
у кожного з них
був свій старт
і молитви свої
своя висота вже досягнена
та свої строї
а на квитках своїх мрій і літери й коди були
своєї земної далеко-близької посадки
і швидкість своя і свій напрям страхИ теж свої
......
We met upon nearby hill-tops of our lives
And shook the dust from us, revealing flame-laced clothes
And eyeing each other in the same moment.
You curved a longing to the wave of your arm:
A longing for dark rest crossed by unbidden gifts.
And my eyes deepened in answer. . . .
Then we floated down to the valley between us:
The valley ringed with smooth honey-combs of sleep.
As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
......
the
meeting
of cat and
blue butterfly
though not expected was long awaited
green eyes drift to the tip of its own nose
in hushed stillness
and the guest
to blooms
flies
......
In the world of pain and pleasure
The cycle of fall and rise goes on;
Love and harmony are the treasure
The seed of humanity ever grows on.
Tears might be rolling and falling
Down the bleeding cheeks of the weak;
But smiles are the gleams of God
Sure to play on pious lips of the meek.
......
вони відчували що мають зустрітись колись
ті двоє
у кожного з них
був свій старт
і молитви свої
своя висота вже досягнена
та свої строї
а на квитках своїх мрій і літери й коди були
своєї земної далеко-близької посадки
і швидкість своя і свій напрям страхИ теж свої
......
In the world of pain and pleasure
The cycle of fall and rise goes on;
Love and harmony are the treasure
The seed of humanity ever grows on.
Tears might be rolling and falling
Down the bleeding cheeks of the weak;
But smiles are the gleams of God
Sure to play on pious lips of the meek.
......
the
meeting
of cat and
blue butterfly
though not expected was long awaited
green eyes drift to the tip of its own nose
in hushed stillness
and the guest
to blooms
flies
......
Expectantly, asking where she was
She was eight, at that point, in that year
my long-dead ancestor
alive again in this child
running in the yard
with the other players
on this tiny stage set
Reflecting history
that was, in our past
a slice of time, our common struggle
......
As I went down the hill along the wall
There was a gate I had leaned at for the view
And had just turned from when I first saw you
As you came up the hill. We met. But all
We did that day was mingle great and small
Footprints in summer dust as if we drew
The figure of our being less than two
But more than one as yet. Your parasol
Pointed the decimal off with one deep thrust.
And all the time we talked you seemed to see
......