My Talk Poem by Anahit Arustamyan

MY TALK

I need a selfish wind to take me away.
A heavy stone is motionless and grey.
The moon intoxicates me like a distant sail.
The moon's face is soaked in honey behind the mystery's veil.
No flock can reach it to taste.
My talk is not about the moon where Gods and Goddesses stay.
My talk is about a sparrow burned in its dream's flame.
The winter hasn't gone yet.
The sparrow hasn't left the nude branch.
The selfish wind refuses to be its sail.
It is snowing now, my sparrow, do wait!
The stone is something which can remain.