Лестница. The stairs

Kissing gently with words
of some foreign dialects,
Tell me, how more deaths
are before happy end,
We remember it both –
in that place, by the sea,
With the Paradise gates
always open so wide,
God is fishing himself.

Dancing softly in chats,
keep me here with hope,
With a dream of the Sun,
summer crown and wings,
Sweetly swinging the myth –
in that place, by the sea,
With the Paradise gates
always open so wide,
Every wish will come true.

Change just minus to plus,
and they’ll melt, melt away,
All the two six three eight
kilometres between,
While I shudder to think –
in that place, by the sea,
With the Paradise gates
always open so wide,
The lighthouse’ll go out.

Yes, I hear the violin,
and you do it as well,
Not in our souls
the Saint Spring has run dry!
We both know: if…,
then – in that place, by the sea,
With the Paradise gates
always open so wide,
A tsunami will pass.

With the most tender love,
rather more, even more,
Our grey hermit hearts
will be warmed in the cold,
And we’ll rise to the stars –
in that place, by the sea,
With the Paradise gates
always open so wide,
Mount Athos is stairs.

January, 20, 2024