Два крыла. Two wings

In the evening Mrs. Fault
  comes to the village
and sits down between us
  in the overseas cottage.
The cicadas will sing
  funeral for me here,
as your wife
  will do for you,
but no one
  will dare – for Love.

Having swallowed
  two deaths in an instant,
you, Savior of us both,
  our guardian angel,
knew that the looks of beloved ones
  say more than evidence,
but we are all
  just a momentary mirage.

The Sun won’t be enough for me,
  and the Moon is malicious.
I would give my life
  for your tenderness, my friend.
Leaving you one of my two wings,
  I whispered,
saying goodbye,
  “Just try – what if?”

But at midnight at the Tower,
  there’s the same Monk,
once we met at dawn,
  and later in dreams,
over the sea of life,
  he was eager to reach
Mount Athos, having passed
  through no grief at all.

I handed him the second wing –
  it was the time...
I made a sign of cross to him,
  sighing, “There’s
     a plateau on the right...”
The cicadas will sing
  funeral for me here,
as Mount Athos
  will do for him,
but no one
  will dare – for Love.

July 27, 2024