Eight beats the towerclock beneath its white stone bark.
I run along Latako Street, so long and dark,
Along the blue ice of illusions towards your spark.
The benches in the park with rain will shine.
I’ll bring a burning cup – half-joy, half-wine,
And I’ll forget the blue ice is so thin, so fine.
You will be kidnapped by long-distance roaring trains,
But you will need me most – with a desire that pains.
The blue ice blinds – its sparkle never wanes.
My anguish is like seaweed; tangling, it stays whole.
And on the blue glass, vague,
The routes of ships arise before my sight.
I will not hold you…
An unheard-of spectrum floods your soul –
The water’s phosphorescent, strange,
Mysterious light.
I will not hold you…
Seaflowers will unfold…
Yet understand me, if I start to call
With letters never written,
With flashes sent from old
Lighthouses –
Long abandoned, long forgotten.
Those boundless blue expenses are created
For ship and bird…
And I must wait for my stray love
Without a word.
(Judita Vaiciunaite)
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Based on Topics: Light Poems, Sadness Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Birds Poems, Water Poems, Desire Poems, Mystery PoemsBased on Keywords: lighthouses, kidnapped, long-distance, half-joy