Vienna Poem by Masiela Lusha

Vienna’s yellow palace rests above a cloud
Of chilled Hungarian lights,
But the gardens are still red and violet
And the three rocks still carry my wishes
From springtides before.
The snow still shines like a field
Of angel satin dressing history.

The garden maze of frosted Sylvester
Chills my worries solid
So that I may break myself
Apart and away and twirl
Like easy snow, my joy,
Clear above the rounded hills.

This Vienna! My love letter
To her time will ride the
Syllables of drawn memories
Into fields and museums,
Cathedrals and music and smiles,
Swans dressed as ballerinas.

My Vienna, my youth
Of clouded breaths, and mittens
And Weinnachtsmann the jolly German giant
Offering chocolate upon chocolate on Christmas Eve.
The mornings after, my golden schnitzels
And toasted chestnuts and steaming punch and walks
Through Stephansplatz.

Her Sunday bells call forth an art
Of celebrated Strauss and violins
And tall maestros
(Lean measures of physical music)
All giants, all play in my heart.
I cradle the dream in my ear.

This beauty I posses with time
Calls through me like a river
Glabrous in all its long glory,
Raising swans and lilies over the shore
And I let the river—a network
Of Europe
Work and flow through the values
Of my memory and pride
And with one frothy sigh,
I let the blue Danube
Finally escape my eyes.