A vill at midnight. In the dusk
I’m drinking twilight’s streaming palm;
The sky which doesn’t wear a mask
Is naked, solemn, deep and calm.
A bluish light from Pleiades,
A silver moonlight, softly spread,
In which a drowsy garden’s trees
Resemble an old man’s grayish head.
The air at night is cool and fresh,
The silence’s singing like a bird…
Surprisingly, my soul and flesh
Can know for sure – it may be heard!..
The summer garden’s calling me
Into the mysteries of night…
This realm is rich in them – I see
And try to grasp with all my might.
I look above – the moon is clear –
Then catch the endless point and start
My quiet way into the dear
And silent temple of my heart...
18 May 2011
The Temple of My Heart
© Copyright: Элис Ларк, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111060103982
Свидетельство о публикации №111060103982
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