feeling poetic

31 Jul

Today I am slightly down. Tried to figure out the cause but in vain. Picked up a few things off the cubicle wall, reached for ‘neater’. And there it was, a poem sent by my old and very good friend. Let me type it up:

Nasha vstrecha prosto otlozhena na kakoy-to nemislimiy srok. Horosho, chto pochta otlazhena: vse chto vazhno tak – mezhdu strok.

Mezhdu strok – berezovim shepotom, drobyu kapelna shifer krish. Mezhdu strok – chto-to eshe bi tam, kak obichno ti govorish…

Osen’, osen’… V tuchi otvislie, tihih slez na samoe dno. Do rassveta ryzhimi pismami s vetok klena brosat’ v okno.

Chtobi utrom, viyda na ulicu ty vsegda pri sebe imel nashi pisma chto vsyudu stelyatsa – pisma s servera ”osen’.mail”.

This poem is about autumn, greetings postponed for indefinite time, gratitude to postmen and stamps, letters, and things that can only be said in between the lines, whispered like the light rain on the roof tops, quiet tears of tired clouds, oak leaves for letters that fall while reaching for the window, something for you to hold while you walk  through the morning sighing park, letters from the north stamped ”autumn.mail”…

See, I know what it is now: it’s the ‘homesickness’. Sickness of heart, longing for home, family, friends. I will see some of them soon and cannot wait. Oh, these long summer days all the way on the other side of the world! So sunny but often so sad. I wish there was rain. Long and cold rain in sheets. Maybe tonight?


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