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The Heaven’s laissez-fair star-gaze in grass…

But barbar is that not, who goes so far

To ask the Stix ’gainst Islands’ neutralism? —

Th’Eagean grasp? – Hell looking for, you are

A little plebe with giant sword, calling for Death!

Hell do perverse not the ’light of Lucifer,

Where free from cares a Victor drink Love’s breath.

Where little winged goddess’ skye head

Wedds thoughts of Poet and Atlet for strength.[69 - "…And he felt in love with the mind of Patrocles»; – Pindar is the first, who emphasized this sort of ideal truth, by looking into the aspects of healthy men’s friendship with the clean, unpervert eye, yet before Aristotle explained it so in his treatises.

    (24.04.2015 – 06.05.2015;

    dacha by S. Posad)

The Meditative

/To Olga Barre,

On her very Day,

Also to that thought of hers for

The 100th Birthday of Don Juan Mattus.

What the bird could hear

Time, when the space go asleep,

No one to prevail they knew.

No soul done to dream insincere.

No sky can escape that of thought

To be near

To the eye of grace new.

The sigh is the heart’s atmosphere.

For whate’er the mountains stayed

As the myths with those few,

The sea-birth hymns the light over there:

Joy ancient and Earth for you.

    (07.

    dacha by S. Posad)

If Poetry was Music

If Poetry was Music, – what, mostly, is, —

I’d rather be a voice, that of the melos

Plays beyond the Tacts, that of the lyriс

Freer than forebound words of textured song,

Like a strange wonderer, ne’er care if right or wrong

Half-slept Composer planned it be, for world

Could learn its inner history; and that of stress,

Of hidden breath, of rarest thought in notes unread —

«Twould be a witness of the sacred dialect

For new-found sounds be your own mistery.

A song, sings newborn song, a dreaming dream —

Much I would love it can be; – honestly,

I’d dare to mix then a sort of nostalgie

For things unheardable with archi-tenor fancy,

What could be like no energy th’Sky needs to hymn

A Scene of very Soul of the pure Listening.