Poetry

The hill scintillates

You are wading through the cooling fields
With your thoughts spun on the needle of hope.
And from the flowers swept  involuntarily
You are weaving the collar for a miracle.

There would be no wind if you stopped,
There would be no sorrow,
There would be
No long poppy necklace in the heart.

It is not so bright,
It is overlong.
One would leave the dew
And sweep along like a bird
To a place where the hill
Scintillates with lilac.

The Fall

When with a dream towards the flight of an angel
A day not lingering will laugh,
And having dropped a golden leaf
Will adorn the earth with lazy obscurity,

You will hear without passing by how silently
When the branch of a tree hurts your chest
The lips are finding comfort in the honeycomb,
When the cold life of the lake
Is being touched by the woozy sky,

So quietly one more fall
Is mellowing into the envious cranberry lust...

xxxxx

Have I seen much...
Perhaps the sea and the shore,
And the sun in the childhood‘s embrace,
Water has rushed down
Over the deep legs
And the salt remained in the heart,
I have been here also
When I wanted to caress with my hand
Slender pinetrees
I knew that I would be snatched up
By the resinous palms of the beauties
And will not be released easily.

Valkis