Beautiful Nature - Forest Stream

Good morning… Just woke up

Today is 20th of September

I wash and dress and then…

Good morning… Just woke up

Today is 15th of November

I wash and dress and go

Good morning… Just woke up

Today is 5th of May

I wash and dress and then…

And the ceiling’s gone as heavy smoke

Am off into the stream of Night… so fragile…

To live another life of mine

Either forgotten or unhappened…

…A boat is cutting dark-green waters

I am watching it while dad is rowing

I spot a thread of smoke at the bank

A smell of food, somebody’s waving us…

We’re home, both tired, wet but pleased:

Today it was a perfect fishing

My mom’s surprised and happy, so am I

She’s smiling, praising me, her son

Am running, my sister’s joining me!

It’s swing time, who’s the first?

We’re swinging so that apples fall

And joy’s filling the garden

And then we’re having evening meal outside, together

Black-yellow tongues of fire are rushing up

Into the velvet sky, so magically stellated

All of a sudden, a spark, it hits my eye…

Growing’s the pain to blow up the world and kill me back

Into the Day we all belong to…

Morning… Just woke up…

And so it goes, day after day

A pale-gray circle

Of indifferent decay…

I just don’t know

What still makes me wake up

To find myself surrounded

By the dead again…

…For buzz of bees and scent of pollen

And can-docks over water’s deep

For silver threads of warm rains fallen

For all it still dwells beneath the steep

For shady glades and sunny wild heaths

And golden meadows, where we’ve run

For rapture of a careless child with

The taste of pinesap on his tongue…

For a night-bird's flight across the river

Through the mournful toll of a lonely church

For after-dawn dew droplets quiver

And moths that dance in the light of a torch

For those who choose the pain of living

And bleeding wounds from that day forth

For martyrs tortured, whose forgiving

Still helps the Skies to bear this Earth…

I take a deep breath as the vision’s dying…

Those never fail who never dare

Be wept by none and cursed, we were just trying

To dream of what you’re not aware…

Of floating mists embracing lovers

And honey poured on just baked bread

Of solid rocks and fragile flowers…

Yet nothing matters to the dead…