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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-07-15 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
POEM TO THE HEARTH (II)
The hearth was grinning In the dark, behind the shadows, Watching me shiver in a corner of the night, Wishing I could somehow escape Remembrance and remorse. And then the fire started burning In streams of blood And flames of purple, Making the gold frames shine On the pale, smiling walls. A torch of bliss was burning Inside a mirror of tears, Reflecting its beautiful fantasies On the illusory stage of dreams, While my frozen hands Had regained their strength And my closed eyes Had found a reason to open, To see and feel the blessed warmth Coming from the hearth. As I stood up, Watching the poor blue ashes That were so faintly floating in the flames, The fire went out Like an eclipsed fantasy. I could hear the voice of death Penetrating the hearth and its downcast ashes, Telling me that the dusk and its games And lights and shadows were actually The deserted hearth Or so many empty hearts That light up and burn with ardour, But always die so unexpectedly! Copyrighted © Sorana Salomeia, Iasi, Romania
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