miyako73
08-11-2012, 06:22 AM
If I could only understand
The song of the dying stream,
Its torrent moving stones
And dry leaves from falling trees,
Its chatter before silence
When even the wind was meek,
Its cascades of bubbling air
Rushing to burst in the July sun,
If I could only disentangle
A word from its faint murmuring
Lulling the tired man nearby
And tickling the face of his child
Or a rhythm from its scream
As atonal as the cosmic whisper
Of a slow-breathing universe
Audible enough with closed eyes,
If I could only hear aloud
The begging of the drying spring,
Its grief, its sorrow, its elegy
Like a gust of wind at its last blow,
I would still be here alive
Listening to the tales of the man
And prodding the listless child
To touch the water and its ripples.
The song of the dying stream,
Its torrent moving stones
And dry leaves from falling trees,
Its chatter before silence
When even the wind was meek,
Its cascades of bubbling air
Rushing to burst in the July sun,
If I could only disentangle
A word from its faint murmuring
Lulling the tired man nearby
And tickling the face of his child
Or a rhythm from its scream
As atonal as the cosmic whisper
Of a slow-breathing universe
Audible enough with closed eyes,
If I could only hear aloud
The begging of the drying spring,
Its grief, its sorrow, its elegy
Like a gust of wind at its last blow,
I would still be here alive
Listening to the tales of the man
And prodding the listless child
To touch the water and its ripples.