Letters burn slowly, cremating dreams of long before.
The fire also takes time to die, while cinders glow warmly
Like human soul destroyed by Love, but never gone to Heaven.
Behold the distant moan of violin that spreads somebody’s pain.
Behold the haste of wind that rips the bloom of flowers
And throws it in front of lonely drifter
As if reminding her that Love’s abode
Is often filled with agony and torment.
In wind’s embrace the petals dance their final dance of doom,
The rain drops tears on the ground amongst the total gloom.
It weeps for violin that tears to pieces someone’s heart
In unison with birds that sing for ones who grew apart
With happiness by Love’s design and Heavens’ blessing too.
While blissful drifter on the go without the slightest clue
She sings along with birds and wind and dances in the rain,
Her face that glows with Love’s desire, aware not of the pain.
The pain that burns eternal soul to pile of smold’ring ambers
Their feeble glow for years lights Night’s dark and dismal chambers.
And violin still moans and weeps and rips the night apart
The strings are broken by the weight of someone’s anguished heart.
But drifter is aware not of someone’s suff’ring soul.
She savors Love and drinks the bliss delivered by late fall.
She cherishes the fleeting kiss and happily she’s crying,
The sweet caress of Autumn breeze her tears of joy is drying.
The wind is sure, he has no doubt that violin’s cheerless wailing
Is all about the drifter’s fate that poor soul’s awaiting.
He knows that from this sad fall her fortunes will be turned
Cold solitude will rule her life, her soul to charcoal burned.
She’ll fall in love in time again with dark and lonely nights,
She’ll spend much time in their embrace, forgetting of her plight.
The twinkle of remote stars resembles earthly love:
So bright and cheerful and yet so distant up above.
Rain teardrops taste on drifter’s lips conceal the taste of Love,
The distant music carries from above the cry of violin
That tells our drifter’s fate, it’s sealed. Her lot’s been cast,
She will depart the realm of happiness and lust.
She’ll spend her years in misery, her loving soul
That made her so different from all
Will sacrifice itself to trees and in return
In flowers’ bloom will be her love reborn.
The night that rings with drifter’s joyous song
Will fade to past and never will return.
The wounded soul will never heal its pain,
Its dreams will die and never rise again.
This Autumn love will be her final call,
The lightning strike will briefly light her soul
And burn it down completely and for good
But drifter knows not of her misfortune.
The violin keeps weeping through the night
To tell the birds who will soon take the flight
Above the bright and vibrant Autumn’s fair
That drifter’s heart they’ll very soon acquire.
She’ll wait for them just like she used to wait
For lover’s footsteps at her garden gate.
They soon will rise, and flip their wings and fly
To herald the new day in fall’s gray sky.
Oh, drifter, if your love were not so deep,
You wouldn’t have so bitterly to weep.
Alas, you couldn’t restrain your love-starved soul
And love will take its unforgiving toll.
She had a gift we call a selfless love
The one that’s given only from above
To few ones who have proven that they can
To suffer more than mere mortal men.
INTO EVERY LIFE COMES A LOVE THAT IS NEVER FORGOTTEN...ARE WE NOT THEN ALL 'DIFTERS'...AT ONE TIME OR ANOTHER? SPLENDID WORK, LIANA...A KEEPER. THANK YOU SO MUCH, FOR SHARING AND GOD BLESS. LOVE, JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
Liana your poetic voice is so utterly outstanding!!
The tenderness of truths are alwasy so evident
inside these translations from Russian...
Your gift is precious too how you reveal inside
this poem the fragility of emotional choices
and the renewals which are through sacrafice
and also the splendorous use of your phrases
so utterly impressive with how they relate to
life & love...or perhaps how I relate myself
into this poem...either way
I absolutely adore this poem more than you know
Within Love's Bounty May You Always Reside
Love & Inspirations Translations...Vickie
Liana, the violin is musical master of an Irish jig and the solemn master of rue. To all capable of selfless love, a gift from angelic heights, remorse is too often the tune the violin plays to accompany their deep sorrow. Your poem carried me on a journey of selfless love and the toll it took on the "Drifter". Left with intense remorse. Once again I am intrigued by the masterful poet with the beautiful name, Liana Margiva. May peace and love be always with you my friend. Jon Michael
Probably one of the best poems I have read in my life time and having been a violinist in my early years I have never heard its sound ring as your portray. Nature and the seasons join the beautiful imagery and the depth of soul of a lover forever tossed by the wind never to know where its heart will come to rest. Rhymed to perfection.