If I was

When you come, belle,
I always am quite mute.
I am as dumb as thoughtless
seeing you.

I wonder
if there is a way
to picture your unearthly beauty.
But who would teach me to?

Well if I was a poet
I would choose
best rhymes
and pen a lovely sonnet
glorifying you;

then I would contrast
your clear face
to inexpressive
image of the tired Moon;

I would compare
your dark wet eyes
to crystal shining teardrop
of Venus
above the blue horizon;

and I would parallel
exciting looks of you
and very first bright beams
of morning Sun
cast on the chilly
sleepy
Earth.


And if I ever
was a musician,
I would compose a sweet
yet violent love song,
a song of passion,
chant of lust;

flutes and guitars,
mad violins,
drums and cymbals
would express
most ancient feelings,
my dearest desires…


And if I was a painter
I would paint your portrait
as a floristic
composition:

on the background
of the tropic herbs,
birds and lianas
there would be two
wild violets,
a small
pale dog-rose’s bloom,

below – two big white lilacs,
a lotus,
clear, rosy, fresh,
and an alluring orchid
right beneath…


When you come, belle,
I always am quite mute.
I am as dumb as breathless
seeing you.

How can I tell you ‘bout my passion?

--------------------------------

Pavel Nichkov