Читать книгу Time and love. The novel in verse - George Pospelow - Страница 23

In my student cell —

a bed and nothing else —

I drop off to sleep

in anticipation of meeting

the distant you.

Without such a date,

it is to be a monk

without a prayer.

I fall asleep.

But…

a balloon of apparitions

inflates twenty minutes,

and here’s a rainy season —

how will it fly off?

That’s the balloon’s business.

Now! I drink from the spring

of a rendezvous – the sitar17

of your lips – like yesterday,

like the night before.

The sitar recognized the musician,

began to play a monsoon

melody about high love.

The tune took us

on the lightest sari away

to the Southern point of India,

where we’ve been recent.

The same blue waters

of the ocean, our dolphin

frisks around

when it has seen us.

The lunar path, by moving

waters apart, drove

a tunnel along the bottom

where we go to our

angel – the dolphin.

It grants you a giant pearl.

We return to the coast,

and on the melody of lips

fly to our places —

you to the West,

me to the East.

Afterward, you’ll send me a letter:

you’ve found an enormous pearl.