Oh, heavens, please, don’t cry,
In vain don’t shed your tears,
You won’t be able to relieve my fears!
May clouds wonder ‘cross the mournful sky,
May thunder boom,
In their ignorance may they try
To stall my doom.
Farewell to fog, forever we may part,
I keep a special place for you in my big heart.
When you enwrapped the earth in tender grief,
When mystified World faded in your mist,
I felt like I was of essence, I felt strong,
While people sought me out all day long,
In you I hid…
Who could have known the Sun for me will die
And merry birds will haughtily fly by.
As if they never nested in my crown,
Or used my leaves as shield from Nature’s frown.
Majestic Moon alone is looking on
Her gloomy visage hides a silent scorn.
She always knew: the leaves will rust and die,
The branches wither as the time goes by.
Another tree will spring its youthfull crown
Right on the spot where proudly I went down.
Oh, if I could somehow roll back time
And get my life back to return to prime!
I would become a bird with plumage crimson red
The tint of blood that lovers’ hearts do shed.
Their grievous moans beneath my sprawling crown
Would lift me up to heavens, never down.
I’d sore above the Earth, enjoying Freedom’s air
We never value it, as long as plenty’s there.
I’d scream to rivers: run along, rejoice
As long as streams are full, you have a mighty voice.
Although infinite, the Life does have its end,
The more it is enjoyed, the faster it is spent.
Pray, streams, enjoy and relish Life,
As long as water loves you.
Akin to lover, who makes up your being…
But time will come and send the water fleeing
To heaven as a vapor, murky haze,
Attracted by the Sun’s eternal blaze.
The rains of Spring are pounding the Earth,
They wash leftover Winter’s dreary dirt.
The leaves are dancing to the happy tune
Of someone’s bliss and to the wind they croon.
They care not that under blazing Sun
My branches withered and my bark is gone.
They sing and dance, oblivious to the fate
That stalks them at the Autumn’s somber gate.
The very wind that plays with them today
Will rip them off the branches to decay…
In common graves.
We stubbornly don’t learn to value life
Until we face Grim Reaper’s crooked knife.
We bask in dreams of life’s eternal light
Until we hear the creepy knock at night.
By Liana Margiva
Translated from Russian by Anatol Kardiukov
Regis
a beautifully composed piece, liana.
every word resonates! love the accompanying photo of the old bristlecone; aged dignity personified...
be well, poetess.
be the Oak..not the Weeping Willow
Lady Vivian
Beautiful the nature's life of a tree and the final resting
place ever so it wither's. Marvelous poem.
Lady Mary Ann
Always,
Deborah
Ron
budd
George