Faith · White

Touch of spring

I look at the moon,
in this everlasting silence,
I shoot all the stars
just to see them falling
into your palms.

I don’t know when love was born,
or if it has a name,
I think it feeds on grass,
I think it makes the rain sing
on my windows at night.

I have faith in you,
for roses flourish in your thoughts
with the power of a forbearing lion,
and I am utterly dressed up in you,
like an old snow covered fir tree.

It really smells like incense,
all of a sudden,
in this house you’ve built for us,
where each small thing has its place,
where nothing is lost.

The lake is frozen,
the reed is still,
our eyes are aching
from the whiteness of field.
We’re resting a little

before summoning spring.

Romanian version


One thought on “Touch of spring

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