By the Winds
𝐀 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐦 — “And I cannot now but wonder / Why old Time will never rest, / While I’m with my love here whisp’ring / Hand in hand and breast to breast.” — Mihai Eminescu, Solitude
Alone with light to thrive
I ask my faraway heart:
Oh, will I ever, while I live,
Be called to be a spirit apart?
My breast responds then:
Alas, the lamp is burning!
Shh! Why this wish? When
I dwell, I shall not be heeding.
Words bind in all my being,
So by the winds I confess:
I make the mistake of longing
A quite clear horizon, I guess.
Oh, little bird that never grows,
You are chirping in an forsaken
Nest, thus your inner song slows
A soul that is not likely to waken.
You are living with an old voice —
Alas, this creature of ancient times
That makes remembrance a choice;
And melancholy is traced in verses.
“In vain in the dust of the school,
Through authors that alone moths rule,
You’re searching for beauty’s vestiges
And principles from the ages,
And on oily pages, therein,
You’re searching for secrets, hidden
And with their distorted letter
You would like the world to alter.
There is no book from which to learn
How life’s preciousness to discern —
But live and do endure it so
And everything undergo
And then you will hear the grass grow.”
— Mihai Eminescu, In Vain in the Dust of the School…
© Diana Dolea (2024 All Rights Reserved)
Thanks to Wolf Eberhardt for letting me be part of Iceberg’s Poetry. 💕
