JOY AND GRIEF. A MIRACLE

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LOVE

My Love does not decline, it grows more and more.

Within the Garden called Love I’ve lost my way.

I try to run away and fail to find the door,

And back I come to bend to Love and stay.

I fear of myself indeed: resistance is but vain,

This passion has become my best and only guide.

Should I escape or is it fate for me to gain?

I am surrounded by Fire on every side!

1914

***

Pray when the Moon begins to rise,

You veil the face,

Or else the jealous Moon will envy

Your perfect grace.

She’ll rush ashake with awful rage

Above the sky

And leave the Earth just in the dark

Alone to cry.

1917

JOY AND GRIEF

Mind, joy and grief resemble each other,

If not by face, by their habits rather.

One of the sisters always goes with you:

Grief fades away, and joy returns anew.

You do not grieve, but in the future near

You’ll have to part with joy – grief will appear.

Lamenting over the fate when old as when a boy,

You cross the other side ‘tween grief and joy.

1919

A MIRACLE

There was a miracle yesterday –

A sudden shining light,

At my returning back to home

Late in the still of night.

Was it the sun? Behind the hill

The bright sun had already set!

The moon, maybe? But in the sky

No moon had risen yet!

And where this light appeared from,

I guessed not straight away,

Until I saw you, my beloved,

Walk shining like the day.

1919

***

With hands so soft you offered once the Wine of Love to me.

“Oh, take a sip! It sparkles with joy,” you uttered smilingly.

19..-1934

***

No matter how extremely fine

Your portrait might be made,

Your face kept in the heart of mine

For years will not fade.

Your features, beautifully true,

No copy can exceed.

I needn’t the portrait, for it’s you

Whom I shall always need.

19..-1934

THE CURLS OF HER HAIR

A curly-haired beauty is full of special grace.

How readily the hair obeys her every pace!

Sometimes the curls droop down, inanimately still,

Sometimes the curls get playing at their lady’s will.

More charmfulness is added by those lustrous curls

That show off her ears and earrings with pearls.

And when the curls come fluent upon her cheeks in floods,

The maiden’s cheeks turn crimson as bright as rosebuds.

1919

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