Poem by Natalia Govsha
Fly, soul that has gained wings,
to the tune of falling leaves.
Through vague night dreams,
and a clear-cut days,
and through the autumn flames
and through the morning mist,
through the crisscrossing rain.
Fly through the flocks of cranes
singing goodbye, flying away,
leaving the dying autumn coals.
Fly, soul, pervade all that exists.
Mysterious sounds you will hear,
and you will see unknown color.
You will become a drop of the sea,
bewitched by the moonlit sorrow;
and you’ll become the sap of a tree
given by the matter of the earth;
and the lightness of a free birds;
the oscillation of the vital source;
the last sigh of the falling leaves…
Fly, soul that has gained wings.
© Natalia Govsha