The Stories about My Love - I

The frosty night. The paths are not seen
That lead to the desired house.
The memory brings away pictures
That I gave and granted to others.

I'm with you. It makes me warm. I hurry.
It is so strange in the deserted streets.
I think about you. I worry.
It's so uneasy to be alone among the trees.


Ah! And it is the moonlight
From the sky making my way.
I don't regret and sorry
That has gone another day.

The new gold melting crescent
Follows me along the back street.
The sky dust is spilled,
And so it rings under my feet.

And here the warm light reminds me
That your are near. It's uneasy.
"How many winters you, my god, outlasted?"
You said: "Without you they were so freezing".

Here's the house, quite, long-wished house.
The snow-drifts are along the garden.
And everything becomes so warm around,
And trees covered with rime are like garlands.

My palm is on the window –
The frosty pattern does not melt.
And through the winter pattern and tears
I try to find the shape of dear man...




Poetry by Alla Antares
Read 792 times
Written on 2008-07-02 at 13:11

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