It's raining tonight. I'm walking alone
The sound of my steps and breathing
The windows around me, their pastel glow
Attracting my soul and teasing
Your stormy southwest, I'm feeling the blow
Embracing me, lost and wet…
I'm thinking of people, the people I know
And those, whom I never met
Their house is built, their children are born
Their trees grow high in the yard
And flowers bloom in spite of the thorns
Though thorns make a perfect guard
A beautiful garden, maintained so well
The garden of someone's dream
The lilac aroma, the drops of bluebells
And maples, and apple-trees
But when I imagine my own home
The sacred place of my heart
I see not the beauty behind the haw
A view from the postal card
I draw the picture of me in the dark
Awaiting for you on the step
The evening is clear with starry sparks
And one is asleep in my lap
My thoughts are serene, for soon you will come
Although you are late sometimes
The wild rose is whispering in the calm
Replied by the candles of pines
_____________________
(Ukhta, October 2013)
Hello poet friend Galina, what an outstanding, graceful and well written poem. It leaves one breathless. I enjoyed, Loyd
MY THOUGHTS ARE SERENE/THE WILD ROSE WHISPERS IN THE CALM Both within the speaker and without in the world serenity reigns. It's a lovely closing. In this poem place, person, emotion are so thoroughly meshed I can't separate them. Pasternak has a poem, one of the first of his I read, WEEPING GARDENS, which has a similar blending. The poem confused me until I learned to surrender to the languorous rhythms. Your poem has some of that languor, but its not a stupor. There is keen awareness shown in the description of houses and an equally keen readines for the arrival of X. I believe THE GARDEN OF SOMEONE'S DREAM is the speaker's future garden, and she is already prepared for a blessed existence because she knows home will always be the SACRED PLACE OF (HER) HEART.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
THE EVENING IS CLEAR WITH STARRY SPARKS AND ONE IS ASLEEP IN MY LAP. The line made me recall some of MAYA ANGELOU'S lines, lines that otherwise would have been vulgar but artfully articulated to look beautifully seductive. It's a lovely romantic poem. Thanks for sharing. Please read my poem ANC AND THE STRUGGLE.