Bezmelnitsin's Gallery :: Denis Bezmelnitsin : "Frozen Pond of Cane"

Denis Bezmelnitsin

Frozen Pond of Cane
Welkin sulky cast a glance
On the pond afore the dusk, misty glimpse.
Mirror water hath become
Sight of sky, the cloudy prism.
Freezing wheeze of North condensed, formed
Into semblance of a man, spake,
"Lay, O frost, with pall this pond lost,
Hide beneath the ice light of face..."
Came the night, and rose
Rolling moon; cane of lake hath clothed in
Hoary rime... "Why are ye sitting here, what
The thoughts ripple thee?" Spake the lake to me.
- Mist dispelled, but next? What is to come? To go
Where? Fair Lady, though, in France I met,
Yet she knows me not, nor her lovely heart
Is free... And me - is just a breeze... Then
Told the pond to me, "But sing to her from jasmine shrub
A moon romance, if she will hark and step
Closer to the bird in thicket singing, - stay!
And be the rain of fragrant songs...
If she will not regard, depart away, -
Then illumine this night with chaunts of moon, and return."

December 2017