A Song slept deep in my heart.
Long slept the song in my heart,
A song that springs in a spurt from my heart.
The words of that song, hardly known,
Though often heard, a chant partly known,
Softly some syllables came and were known.
How near seems the thrill of that time.
The decades race back to that springtime.
Vicissitudes of Life, redeem that time.
A son's homage still thrills to that song.
Our home was once a fountain of song,
Foaming, foaming fountain of song.
- - - - - - - - March 1982, Moscow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem