a wish

 

i wish

to take away his pain
when he, fevered and fragile,
breaks through ghost letters
on ice-jailed windowpanes
that steal too many sighs of breath
and the haunting sky of past
lands on his shoulders.

i wish

to gentle his fall
the way snow soothes freezing air
when with winter-numb kisses
he wipes tears off weeping sky’s eyes
yet his soul is afloat
shaping a slow budding sun
from somber skin of nocturnes.

i wish

to be a tiny island’s summer
that doesn’t burn but warms and heals
with a touch of home he looks for
tracing remnants of valley stars
and aura of old back-alleys
along the realm of his misty soul.

 

 

(yelena 2015)

spring angels

the woods are dancing
softly to the skylit tunes
of daystar’s melodies.
the blue-hued world
is drifting
in the daze of myrtle scents
and sylvan whims.
i hear the song of elven rain,
a cradling pitter-patter
of a chambered shimmering,
and from afar
the flutter of
azure, lucent wings.

two splendid angels soar aglow
along the nascent season,
their eyes are vernal stars
and childhood dreams.
their hands attach
the scent of lilacs
to the wintered houses;
they write warm lights
on valleys, pathways, streets
illuminating every land
to welcome spring

.

.

.

(for angel Susie and angel Linty, with gratitude)

123

the pianist

night
is a relief of rainy pianos
whispering to earth
the unfading essences
of vulnerable sky

yet
his hands
are too soft
and interrupt
a melody

(are they tired
or do they just long
for one more flight?)

and he still feels
how a silent ache flows
along the weathered wood,
spills on cold floors
that strive to forget
her steps
and her light

the clouds
are only crying

the dawn
hesitates to arrive

you are not alone

(for N.)

i’ve read a love’s breath
along soft layers of ancient clouds,
a place of the poem’s homecoming
where gentle oblivion appears endless
and cradles the subtle shimmer of hope
reflecting a joyful sunset on cyan domes
as you heal the wounds
with your light shining candles of the soul
and words that caress a lonely shore
while summer ocean waves
lull a prayer for your smile
uniting the lost earth and eternal sky.

ruusu

suspended on vibrant air
between the lunar bells
and chiming dawn
we paint the desert rose wild
where moon sand holds
soft agony of nascent sunrays.
fever-winged, heavy
and warm with amber radiance,
arms ignite petal songs
along a clouded flower of sky
while open hearts flow
each other’s budding stream
of smiles, embraces, tears.

this bloom,
what a lovely way
to breathe.

 

 

 

 

ruusu (Fin.) – rose

lumen

weightless leaves,
harbingers of boreal winds,
how fleeting flow the days
and how long follow the nights

but i keep them close,
the lights that still smile
into my fragile nocturnes
and hold me in their arms.

they are
a song of river streams,
a melody of lemon fireflies

where
the image of us
is mirrored
in the realm
of infinite summer.

where
we are wild and free.

(yelena)

tristana (for my aunt)

(originally in Russian)

 

a tiny feather
between the softest pages

she holds it close to her heart

and if the wind reaches for reveries
from those daisy dazes
and lavender-perfumed keys
you hear an evensong
for the receding day
and the pale birth of memory moon

she imagines your eyes open to shimmering sky,
tears of the past dried
and your weathered hand drawing wonders
in constellations of twilight

while quiet winter is stepping gently
on cobblestone streets of misted cathedrals
and ashen lanterns beckon
towards a warm valley of your dwelling
chanting with late phoenix bells

she recites
a blue blizzard orison
for a flower-soul
that awaits the hour of joy

even when her dusk smile
cannot find home

yet your face,
your face is
a stream of secret things

and at the gates of spring
she waltzes
robed in argent gauze

whispering
flow, night, flow

 

 

(yelena 2015)