Time and love. The novel in verse. George Pospelow
enigmatic scent of long
hair, tender skin,
the glitter of affectionate eyes
fuddle subtly my mind.
Your lips slightly touch
my cheek, your hair falls
loose over our heads.
We are lost for the entire
world inside a marquee.
Well, I’m in the range
of your charms,
seductive nymph Calypso.
You are saying you want
to conquer the hero, and
put forward your captivating
weapon – an alluring tempting
kiss. Oh, yes, you win!
By holding me captive, you’re
convinced in the might
of the charms. It makes you
calm. You lie down
on the grass, already dried-up
from the early dew. You like
how I kiss your round
shoulders. I feel this, and kiss
even more passionately,
while getting over from
one end of a snow-white valley
to another. It’s unbearable
to stay below if
two knolls rise before.
The height beckons to approach:
slowly I climb the knoll,
go across the ravine,
and ascend a second knoll,
where I take rest
after getting tired
with a long passage.
Yesterday,
on the way to Ooty,
we had a good look
of Picasso reproductions,
so that today you seem
assembled of geometrical
figures, mainly of smooth
unusual fine circles.
I kiss the crocks of a broken
round jug,
each one separately,
try to collect them together
and create a single ring.
Crocks can’t stick together —
they remain themselves.
Perhaps, we should not
grasp Picasso suspiciously.
Wow, isn’t that something!
The Indian subject area
overlaps the European.
During our travels in India,
we often saw pictures of
Krishna5 kissing a shepherdess.
So, we transform into
Krishna and Radha imitating
their pose that stuck in
our collective memory,
not even neglecting the flute.
Success. Subconsciously,
we sense the bonds that tie
true lovers together.
Radha rewards me with
the most gratifying kiss.
Our tongues play smoothly.
Still under the impression
of a terrific transformation,
we aspire to revive legends
of two other greatest
Indian fancy girls.
“Please show how
Shakuntala and Savitri6
would kiss their lovers.”
We rejoice especially
at the happiness of Savitri when
she took her lover back
from the God of Death.
Recreation of love episodes
lasts longer time.
OK, it’s getting dark.
Love during the eruption of the Sun
The southern point
of the Indian peninsula.
The two in love —
together.
They had traveled for months
separating for studies
at different cities —
strolled along the sandbank
of the ocean.
On their left,
the jungle of stunted
palms, banana, and bushes
stretched.
To be together.
Their only desire.
They were.
No limits to a bright space!
Freedom from subordination!
What made suspicious
was the enormous Sun,
so close,
within a stone’s throw.
Well, the equator was nearby —
that might be the reason.
By three, the Sun
swelled and melted,
painted the sky in every
likely tint of red,
dark burgundy dominated.
The horizon faded.
Then a colorful magma
erupted into the ocean,
and along with its mirror
quickly reached the shore,
transforming everything around
into incredibility.
The gulls escaped.
No movement, noise, or wind.
A majestic fight of royal
colors – burgundy and golden!
The first won
all the sky expanses,
only a “burning” jungle
did not submit.
Then it – carmine —
was losing material forms.
It grew darker. The pulse
of the Galaxy’s solar engine
pierced the illusory world.
Beyond the typical understanding,
this extraordinary phenomenon
penetrated the lovers’ brains and bodies
of the lovers, rapt, scared.
A solar eclipse, a flare?
Something