by Alicja Kuberska
I no longer have a nest here
But I come back, like a swallow,
To places of my childhood.
I wander the sandy hedgerows,
To participate in the mystery of lark song.
I arrange bouquets
Of wild poppies and cornflowers -
And raise up to the clouds.
Old trees, to which I confided my secrets,
Tart, wild cherries
And sweet-scented linden
As once -
I divine the world in the mirror of the lake.
I listen to the waves and the wind.
Apparently nothing has changed.
Only the cemetery hill,
Like a diary of life,
Is ever more clear
Last updated May 24, 2015