The Stories about My Love – II

It is the room where the dear profile
I try to view in the white fog.
The portrait of an unknown under the rainbow
Painted by you, is on the wall.

The fireplace is breathing jealously.
It gives the current stream of warmth
To you, who lived his life so carelessly,
Who doesn't recollect past days by-gone.

Muffled yourself up in the old plaid
You're sitting by the fire burning less.
"How many years you, my god, outlived?"
You said: "The world without you was meaningless".


I see reflections of the flame
On the old album's yellow leaves.
Two images of people look at me.
I've heard about how they used to live.

She... And he lived here so long ago,
Among snow-drifts and sorrow.
The years are running and time is going on.
They left their pictures to be remembered tomorrow.

His face, so young and handsome,
Was gleaming in the flame.
She stepped to meet him,
And everything then changed.

The sledge squeaking with snow
Carried them to the nearest church.
He couldn't live without her.
That day was bright, that night was hot.

Is there a place in present days
Where the past can give us shelter?
Here is my love, and here is my man.
The heart longs for warm affection.

My thought is after you, inside,
And going around the room
I touch your cheek, I give a smile,
My heart wants to rush to you.


Yes, I'm here. Look. I smile,
You run out on the threshold.
And being embraced in your arm
I lean against your shoulder.

Hurry inside! But you don't let me go,
And warm my hand with the long kiss.
I walked so much. You said: "You know,
Here is the house that can hide from blizzard".




Poetry by Alla Antares
Read 783 times
Written on 2008-07-02 at 13:12

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