Poetry
***
The silence of the violet field
Is open to the sky and trusting heart –
The power of an amalgam of blue and red,
An ancient obedience of life
Reigns here
– obedience of flowers to the sun,
From which the herbs are gaining
The colour of the flame,
The unannoying lilac-blue monotony and solitude
Hide potence,
The silence of phacelia in bloom
Seems to be ears of its own presence,
Though frail its stalks, laden with rain’s kiss,
Stand confident –
No one will be able to pass them by,
All will linger, pause a step, admire,
Unhand what is already gone
And think that not all’s lost in life’s fret,
Since there is on earth
This beauty,
Accessible by foot and reassuring…
Even bumblebees humble themselves
Over a flowering phacelia,
Fly leisurely, sit down on a ballerina stalk,
Aim at a flower and, having touched its core,
Freeze in a sweet slow slumber.
Calm down, troubled you, calm down!
Listen! Take heed! Breathe out!
Trust this violet immutability –
Don’t say a word!
Don’t cry, don’t moan –
Sleep and peace are all around,
The silence of the violet filed is round,
Round, round, round…
