The Mistress of the Ball

My house stands like a bright, warm hall,
Where I am hostess, singer, voice,
And every step becomes a ball,
Where I dance like a queen by choice.

The mirrors do not lie to me,
My garden, home — my joy and pride,
I do not hide for all to see,
This lightness is my joyful guide.

I do not count the lines of care,
Within me other music plays,
I know the worth of silver hair,
And boredom has no power these days.

My dance is my plain answer now,
My song — my earthly poem and light,
I do not wait for loud acclaim,
Another ball is my delight.

The years have given me their swing,
Where every guest is my good friend,
My house is not a fortress — it is an ark,
And I am garden, maker, and the end.

The years will pass, but I will sing,
I drink to joy and to the motion,
And I will give my song its wing,
For our flight and our emotion.

And when my evening comes to me,
No foreign will shall be my sign,
While my garden still is free,
I go the way my heart draws mine.

Евгений Грибков
2026 год
http://stihi.ru/2026/10/27/5409