Let Fall Poem by Dan Danila

I wonder now and then, looking down,
like a willow recalling the water mirror
even when the wide river is frosted,
what has become of the apple tree I set
one afternoon in a calid autumn,
behind my grandfather's house?

Of my friend from the neighbourhood,
inseparable all day long, so cheerful,
the blue-eyed, freckled lad who swore
he'll come to my wedding? – I did the same,
what a shame; memory is too odd,
sometimes I remember the details
and forget the heart of the matter.

Of my first love, the shy pigtailed girl
who made me redden when she smiled
at me, or my first fairy-tales book – I thought
we'd never separate in our parallel lives,
I hoped I can keep the beings dear to me
forever, hold all together like the pearls
on a string – my hands, stubborn tools,
must learn to let fall, to let free the untenable.

Sometimes I can't stop asking myself,
what has become of my golden apple tree –
I still have the sweet and sour taste on my tongue –
the tree I planted once for all who are silent...