Saguaros have rested
for two hundred years
on the slopes of Pinnacle Peak
before continuing their ascent.
A few on the ridge wait for the others.
The nearby peaks darken their mirrors
to show the clouds
the shape of their beauty.
White rocks bleach
the air we breathe this morning.
Green hearts cluster
beneath blue metallic suns.
the saguaros are the Indians' ancestors - Daniil Andreev also says that trees have their souls and special worlds, In Saint- Petersburg the summer heat is also oppressively heavy because of, I guess, moisture. But we HAVE t othink that it is a blessing also. Was here Saint John who was really blessed and in such climate too! I also love METAPHORS - they are the main thing in poetry as swing in Jazz. Brodsky is greatly rich in METAPHORS.
I had to research a little for this, because I never knew that particular cactus name. Also I'd never heard of Pinnacle Peak. After that though, I read it again and I must say you've painted a beautiful scene here. In fact if I went there, I don't know if the actual scene would measure up to your description of it lol. ~Nika
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The stirring evocation of imagery you have created in my mind of these quietly magnificent marvels of life echoes long after the final line. It carries me back to my younger years in the service, traveling back and forth between Texas and California, through the deep silence of the high desert under the blazing eye of the sun, and the bright canopy of the stars. A truly beautiful portrait, and a solemnly noble tribute. Daniel. Thank you.