A Requiem for a Girl Who Died in a Motorcycle Accident
I do not know where your grave is.
And yet I bring you flowers.
I do not know.
And yet I come to see you.
I do not know.
And yet I weep at your death.
Where are you? Where did they bury you?
I do not know where your grave is.
And yet I bring you flowers.
In my heart there are pieces of torn
memories; in my eyes, the salt
of your tears; in my hands
I can feel the warmth of your
fingers.
Now I touch your blood.
I do not know where your grave is.
And yet I bring you flowers.
September 28, 1987
--Alexander Shaumyan
The Door: Selected Poems
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