It takes so long to sneak into my heart,
what an ecstasy against solitude and sour winds.
The first colors, the melody of flowers,
there isn’t agony in the sway under the rain.
And you and I, dire souls in sunset flames,
between white rock-roses and swan feathers,
we honor the rebirth of our bodies.
Together we morn the death of frost and névé,
to savor the warmth in a bed of coals
and entrust the last rays of winter light
with our desires and the taste of kismet.
And when rainbows sparkle on gardens,
on bitter- sweet reminiscence, innocence and
fairy tales bloom with poetry in Spring.
©2013, B. T., All rights reserved