(1891 - 1938 / Warsaw)

To Cure Wounds Is So Rigid

To cure wounds is so rigid:
They drank the air and poisoned bread.
Young Joseph who was sold to Egypt
Could not be more deathly sad!

The nomads under starry dome,
With eyes, half-closed, and on horse,
Compose sagas, while they roam,
About day they vaguely crossed.

Few things they need for inspiration:
One lost his quiver in the sand;
One changed his horse ... . In peaceful fashion
The daily mist comes to its end;

And if a song is simply gaining
Your heart with non-predicted grace,
All vanish -- only they are reigning:
The stars, the singer, and the space!

User Rating: 2,7 / 5 ( 10 votes )

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.