My impatient fate
Approaches me,
Stepping zealously
On the air.
It approaches me quietly,
Without noise,
It comes from
The remote area.
And I feel
That in no time,
It’ll open
With its burning fingers
The sacred, the whitest
Door of mine.
My Prairies And My Jungle
When that we were favourites of sky and heavens
When that we were favourites of prairies and jungle
When that we were happy. We thought to another neither
Then we were able to cry and laughter... Smiled each other
Now my wolves get accustomed of collars- skins-colour's
Now even the dogs escape from the house to the far-forest
And small sparrows have started to fly in warm to the country.
But starlings and swallows remained to me of winter's nests...
I enjoyed this well-done poem.
Tsira, I love it again: a well chosen and realized topic. To tell the truth, I'm sick and tired of reading about love of listening songs about love. That's why I'm very attentive while reading yours (they differ from the ones I dislike) . Konstantin. PS. Today I've already read 6 your poems but written my comments on 3 ones.
Tsira: This is very well done. I had forgotten that Ananke is the Greek goddess of necessity and the personification of destiny and fate, depicted as holding a spindle. I also agree whole heartedly with GW62 and Roger, below, that the vision of Fate silently stealing upon us and with burning fingers opening our most sacred door, is a powerful visual. Many, many thanks! -G
I agree with Roger, those are great lines. I guess, I'll just have to settle for #2. I'll read on, we'll see.
Tsira.... This is wonderful.... 'With its burning fingers The sacred, the whitest Door of mine.' Just great poetry.... Rogerx
Beautifully translated - the poet and the translator, both deserve praise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My congratulations...