" There is mystery in the night air "
**- said the Moon
while little stars upon me
began to stare
at the black kitten
catching leaves
scattered in the Old Autumn Wind...

Running fast in the middle of the corn,
the little maid held a red maple leaf
as she began to sing:
,, For golden Autumn I do not morn,
but for the blackberries that perished of grief,,

Her hair of marigold in the wind swung
and her cheeks were bright and rosy
when she once again in her silvery voice sung :
,, Oh October, month of gold,
how beautiful sights you give me to see ,,

Alas, the sun soon started to set behind the hill
and made her smile to slowly fade
when, from the woodland, the wind gave her a chill:
,, Little maid, leave October's canvas of art
and go home before nightfall freezes your fragile little heart  ,,

... So I bravely
gazed into the night sky
and my big eyes were suddenly
filled with the past,
while shedding tears
of dead memories ...*

          ✴☽✴☾✴

I met my love
down the cherry lane,
Oh, down the old cherry lane
while stars were shining above

I kissed my darling
down the cherry lane,
Oh, down the old cherry lane
while the branches bend and swing

I farewelled my lover
down the cherry lane,
Oh, down the old cherry lane
while the moon made the night brighter

Sapphire waves remember the story
when the sky was painted in royal blue
and made your gaze more of a dream than a memory
while the moon reflected into you

Suddenly you looked at me
and tears fell from your violet eyes
for your heart was not filled with glee,
yet I noticed what your white tears could symbolize

So, into the deep see I dived,
sinking and swimming
while for your happiness I strived,
in the dark water, tumbling and falling

After I found my answer
and you reached with your fingers
inside my picked up silver oyster
I saw you smile as you gathered a handful of pearls !

Dance swiftly, my briar rose,
for in autumns lament you shall not seek repose

Cry bitterly,  my willow tree,
for the silver haired maid is long lost at sea

Sing serenely, my morning stars,
for the poetic moon is no longer ours

*... Hear my whispers in the dark ...

Last night,  
when  I opened my window,
a small piece of the moon
fell into my glass ...

Perhaps it was the melody
of winter's eternal repose
and her ****** lips
shamed the odious rose
But when approached by Death,
the girl sobbed and sobbed underneath the thorns
until she released  her last breath
Still Death could only hear wind chimes
as he lingered upon the frozen breeze
in those forgotten nighttimes

It seemed like Autumn was just passing by
with red maple leaves in the air that began to cry
and the wind who played a serenade in the willow tree
Oh, how fast do those moments flee
Now little snowflakes upon me are about to fall
So tiny, so silvery, so small
Autumn may be brief, but when it's over
the melancholy arrives in a marigold color
and softly whispers in my ear:

**,, Autumn will live,
Autumn will last,
Even when it's now gone
you will see it riding through the dawn,,

On a crystal breeze,
across the forest lake about to freeze,
On silver bells someone plays my melody
Hear it and again you shall remember me
along with memories forgotten long ago
and a song you once used to know
as warm as a dying ember
glowing on a night of December ...

Please come to me,
maiden, so honorably fair
For you are the
most beautiful rose
in my forest

Please come to me,
maiden,  so honorably fair
For you shall grow in my garden
but with no sunlight
nor spring water

Please come to me,
maiden, so honorably fair
For your tears will soon be forgotten
when you submit to the earth underneath

Bloom,
little red bud
and grow in the
wild rose that you are
Raise your briar thorns
until they scar her pretty face,
until your ****** petals
fill the air in the night
Raise them, again and again
and give praise to her forgotten beauty...

The blush water lilies
all rose up with sunshine's gold
as the little sailor boy
by the pond merrily strolled.

His cheeks were cherry red,
and his locks - fair and yellow
when he sat by the wooden bridge
playing on his father's cello.

And while his music was even heard
in the fisherman's village, so clear and loud
He spotted his reflection in the water and said
,, Boy, to be so young I am most certainly proud ! ,,

Suddenly the sailor boy realized soon,
to the old captain he gave his word
and promised to set sail with him
by tomorrow's merciful noon.

But this rash oath he did regret,
for instead with the village boys to carelessly play
he had to leave the warm dry land
and boldly sail under skies angry and grey.

Why, Oh why did he ever ran away from home,
and abandon his poor mother who was very ill
to wait for him all  day and all night
'cause he was her only son, true and still

So he stood up and quickly passed the bridge,
thinking of his mother's eyes, colored in brown
And below the mossy ridge he ran
when he saw her weeping in the garden.

,, Mother, sweet mother ,, - the sailor boy cried
and ran up to her hugging her apron, clean and white
,, I do not wish to sail young in the roaring sea
and leave you alone here to die of terrible fright ,,

,, Do not worry ,,- his mother happily said
and his blessed heart was again filled with joy,
for he knew that even if he never would sail to sea,
he would always remain the little sailor boy

Upon one summer's full moon,
I walked pass the banks of Dún Laoghaire
where I stumbled upon a maiden fair
and blessed the harvest month of June

Pearls fell from her big eyes - blue with grey
In pain and sorrow she did complain
for her deceased lover who once sailed
the wild ocean, boldly and gay

With tender steps I approached her shyly,
and bestowed a single rose picked before,
Alas she threw it in the water,
where it serenely floated on the sea

She then knelt down to me and prayed :
,, Only faithful to my poor William I was
and faithful to the end I shall remain ,,
then upon the starry sky she faithfully gazed

I gently leaned and kissed her jeweled forehead,
but the truth to her I  simply could not tell
For I was the same poor sailor William
whom everyone carelessly took  for dead

Suddenly she rose up, looking as pail as a ghost,
Petrified, I ran away, as dandelions swayed behind.
Never glancing back at her, I only wished to
disappear under the light of the candle lamp post.

And on the following grim  morning,
I , from my old mother, harshly  learned
the horrendous news why the golden bells of our church
mercilessly woke me up by their lamenting ring

For a shivering white hand has taken  
the whaler's rusty harpoon, my bewitched Mirabelle,
A pierced heart in her watery body
lying down in the peaceful marine lagoon

So, every night I cannot bear to rest nor sleep,
Her maroon blood now sheds upon the sky at dusk
leaving me in oblivion of a sailors repose,
and lamenting memories bound forever to keep ...

One is the bluebird
whose wings carried my burdens
heavier than mountains

One is the bluebird
who flew across starry skies
and silvery snow

One is the bluebird
whose eyes sincere and solemn
lovingly gazed into mine

Alas, it never cut my guilt
for letting it go to start anew

So, one day maybe
I, again, will hear its voice that chirps and comforts,
and to push me onward... To where I belong ...

Little red poppies,
all lined up by the wooden tracks

Little red poppies,
all stirred up by the passing Soviet train

Little red poppies,
all picked up by the children who carelessly played

At night
when the lake
becomes a mirror,
I look over to witness
the reflection of the stars

**... Just so you can see me for one last time ...

Dying alone
in this kingdom
by the sea,
watching stars
going out...

In the restless waves,
In the shimmering blue...

My eyes are closed,
my heart has gone silent,
But a song will travel
upon a wind of memories
across the sea...

Sailing through the
midnight sky,
Sailing through the
midnight sea,
in a boat of moon.

Fishing for my dream,
so far
Fishing for my dream,
so near
My rope - a single moonbeam
and my bait- one silver star

Once, I can't remember,
I was innocent but so full of pain
While one midsummer's eve
I did met the fair  Rose-red.

My old mother did not fancy,
she sobbed and wept all night long,
but my passion continued to spark
as I constantly whispered ,, Rose-red,,

So my home of wood I kindly fled,
no longer a roof to shelter my poor head,
but gladly I spent my youthful days
with the cheerful Rose-red.

In the morning,  song of nightingale
made her charming face to glow
while her strawberry lips sang
,, My love, see how so blissful is your Rose-red ,,

But alas, the cry of the violin was heard too soon,
as I peacefully am now sinking before the early tide
And from the Heavenly kingdom i do beseech
-Mercy, oh sweet mercy- for my Rose-red.

Now that the sun has set behind the far pines,
and only the stars accompany my deep mourning,
there is no one else by my side
to help me bury Rose-red.

My long black cloak was envied by the night
which sent me a gentle autumn breeze,
as I pressed my soiled hands upon the wooden coffin
and only whispered ,, Oh, my poor Rose-red ,,

And tonight within this cursed hour,
I too shall be sleeping above the cold stone,
for there is no tender lullaby than the roses that stirred
around the grave of my dearest Rose-red...

White orchid, my beautiful white orchid,
where have you innocently bloomed?

   ,, In the garden of dreams, but you picked
me up and gave me to a blue lady ,,

White orchid, my beautiful white orchid,
why are you now all yellow and drooped?

   **,, Because you forgot me when you saw
two white orchids only blooming in her eyes ,,

My true love and I
did meet
Down in the lavender garden
Long ago,
Oh, so long ago
When he told me to close my eyes
and listen to his lullaby.

My velvet dreams
were carried across the
melancholy air and finally found rest
in the same old lavender blue.
When he told me that only
in midsummer would the lavender bloom
just for me

My true love and I were deadly shades
in the night and caressed each other lovingly
Until my true love dropped off to sleep...

,, She wore black lace
which kissed her pale skin
As blinking stars passed
through the restless night.
Tangled in night roses and
Moonlight when she slept
beneath a blanket of dreams ,,

I will never forget...

Sing my restless heart
in a poem of wild roses
that bloom in the morning sky.
One verse for love
One verse for grief
One verse for lament

Paint the ageless beauty
of my face on your canvas of
ice and snow.
One color for my hair
One color for my lips
One color for my eyes

Play my melancholy soul
into a symphony on a vintage piano.
One note for yearning
One note for hope
One note for freedom

*... Life imitates Art ...

Far away
in the forbidden
forest of thoughts,
where i often forget
to remember again.
I can see burning autumn
leaves that gently dance in
the breeze, creating a swirl
of golden memories.
And watch the unspoken words
lapping beside glowing faces.
Listen to the trembling voices,
Tired and wondering
If I was by their side.

*,, Do not hide,
for in the morning we can
take the chance by flying away,,

Sending vines of thorns
to grow upon high stone walls.

  *- I will touch every star in the sky...

Mmmmmm...
At dusk when the
moonflowers show their
faces to the silver stars.

Mmmmmm...
At dawn when the
monflowers hide their
faces from the golden sun.

Mmmmmm...
You will find me
under the shadow of the willows,
dreaming of him as he recites
verses of poetry to me.

Mmmmmm....

Briar rose, ****** red,
Why do you dream of tangled
vines with thorns?
Briar rose, ****** red,
Why do you dream of the fair
maiden that mourns?
As pearls of winter fall upon you,
-How cruel is this season,
to inflict melancholy just by
freezing your petals in the
eternal swirl of time...

How I adore the
poetic verses of the moon.
Not the sun,
Not the stars,
but only my moon.

From a balcony of clouds
above me, the moon whispers
and throws a star.
Ah, but the moon shines as twice
as bright as the star it throws.

I would fly to heaven
just to be with my moon,
Where the silver beams
would color my hair white.

Oh, what a poem would I write
if I could make the moon
Mine, all mine ...

Little nightingale,
wings of white and gold.
Little nightingale,
singing gay and bold.
Fly away, far from your iron cage.
Fly away, up in the North sky.
One day you will come back,
singing your last requiem to me,
For I shall be there to hear no more.
   You are very brave,
   and you are very free,
So do not fall into sorrow,
do not fall into eternal repose.
But until then...
  - Sing, oh sing,
My sweetest nightingale
high above my broken baroque grave

I saw the world through
eyes of glass.
Ghost, tall and thin.
What I can't see, please tell me.
- Little petals, white and rosy.
Flying in your garden
You really can't see the beauty
in everything,
I don't even think you can see me.
... But Cherry Blossom
on a moonlit night

The wild roses grew,
all upon the wooden
garden fence, painted white.
Gentle autumn breezes blew
and stirred the
emerald-green leaves.
The melancholy fragrance
was spread in the air,
as I sat and watched
the red petals submit
to the deadly season.
So i sang them a lullaby,
to fall in a summer dream,
And peacefully wilt
with no sorrow,
with no tears...

Drown my dreams
in October winds,
Drown my memories
in leaves of fire,
Drown my melodies
in sunset's regret

Keep me from dreaming,
Keep me from remembering,
Keep me from singing

So I too can fall in oblivion with you

Dewdrops on
the meadow
reflect memories
to the roses.
Her sighs painted
the sky of the North
as the church bells
echo in the tall trees*

*,, Oh, Anamaria,
leave your floral meadows.
And watch the reckless
waves trying to escape the sea.
Listen....
They sob for you lover,
his soul lost at sea ,,

Two red cherries
under the twinkle
of a fading star,
They whisper together...*

*,, She was wearing
a pocket watch,
long chain
made of stars,
and the clock
made of the moon.

Alas, he never came,
But she is still up there
in the diamond sky,
Waiting... ,,

In a midnight
whispered by spring,
I lingered to hear
the symphony
of wild roses
beyond the
wayward pines.
But now
I paint them
in marine colours
to send them
to drift among
the reckless waves,
seducing the young sailors...