The sea is tranquil, as we speak
And the stars, have greater skies to seek
The glassy stream quivers to the breeze
But the tormented Swan, murmurs her pleas
As I hold you, tottering in the ward
The saints and moralists, clash on their own accord
And as the lush green of spring lies in wait
The dark hills of winter gives up its gait.
When you are asleep during night,
Lying robed, in snowy white
The dry leaves upon your falling light
Float up and down, like the rise and fall of morn
And another day, the sun adorns.
Who is this? And what is here?
I cannot stop, this thermal noon
Of chemo drips and laser rays
Buzzing in the hospital room
How can I tell, those southbound swans
That they must remain
In the lighted palace of royal terrain.
I cannot, the refescent sun to pause
And dress my wounds, of sins with gauze
It hurts me when, in the white curtain, to and fro
I see the gusty shadow, sway so slow
You silently breathe, while I exist in gloom
With this frigid heap of stones,
Hoping, that red roses, mushroom and bloom.
On a long journey, even the straw is heavy,
I cannot stop, the truculent floods or quakes
Nor hold the ululating storms at bay,
Our lives move, whilst yours rests in waiting wings
For closure of all mortal, earthly things.
Although I know, your prison is a holy graph
And your departure tears my heart in half
The morning sun, never lasts the day
We learn, that one thing ceases and another one starts
And adieu for evermore.
(This poem I dedicate to all those who succumbed to Cancer)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.