All the colours
have started
to drain from the sky
the apple-trees
have lost their blossoms
the summer seas
no longer sing
their warm shoulder-lilt
precious things seem to be lost
what once belonged
seems abandoned
but the time will come, my dear
when i will hold you close
and all will be
right again
in the world
rivers will find
their lost course
the wilted will bloom
empires will be restored
and all the distances will close
the moon will
swan down once again
lost ships will sail home
barren words
will replenish themselves
and the winds will blow
through the pine-woods
nourishing the air
with the most divine fragrance
and we will find ourselves
in the perfect balance
that we were
always
meant for
with our hearts
and gazes
drifting out over...
the vast
mountain skies.