Am I crazy, or am I just talking to myself?
Look at yourself,
dacing through twilight suns
in sunshine colored dresses.
And you say I'm the crazy one.
Please, don't make me laugh,
I am too much annyoid with taught lessons,
of life and death and love is a magical thing
but I am not impressed till my Gypsy Queen
comes up from the shoreline of the Middle East
and comes and lays next to me, as we watch the ships sail
through the Golden horn of Old Istanbul
into the bay of Asia Minor.
You say I am crazy, Am I or am I just talking to myself.
I believe I am having a conversation that has no end about your beauty,
I talk to whomever has an open ear, and even if people listened,
Who would care about what I have to say?
Since I first laid eyes upon your beauty,
I melted and you took my sanity away from me,
you took my innocence away and turned me into a worried monster.
I love you, and you take me home with you
to meet your father and mother,
both poets who made love and created a beautiful poem called you.
I am in love with you, your songs you sing,
sounding better than a nightingale in the midst of the twilight.
Walking the seashores with your mother as I talk to your father.
He isn't listening, all though he is a good actor,
for he acts if he knows what I say to him.
I talk of you and marriage,
throwing of the rice, exchanging of the golden crowns,
the tolling of church bells, and a happy reception afterwards.
The honeymoon, meant for the first born to carry on the family crest.
As we grow old, I want to grow old with you
Nothing now, a few thousand miles of ocean and sea
seperates us from each other.
Do not worry, for I shall come one day
in the month of May, your mother's favorite month
and I shall bring along a golden ring, a pearl necklace and two roses.
We shall walk the streets together hand and hand,
and wait for the wedding guests to arrive and see us on our way
to new beginnings in holy mantrimony.
Care for me,
I ask you one question, Am I crazy, or am I just talking to myself?
Talking to white walls that don't responed with life.
I need you, too give me a straight answer, to love me
embrace me with your beauty and let me drink from your knowledge.
For my sweet Persian Bride, I shall love you for eternity.
Now, come off the beach and cross the crossing paths
of mortality and morality and join hands with me,
as we sing the nights away, along with the sweet nightingales.
As we look into each other's eyes
I ask you, am I crazy to love you?
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
A little bit confused was beautiful Spring,
She had to choose for life a bridegroom.
Who will give her a wedding ring?
Three men wanted to be her happy and bloom.
March, April and May vied with each other.
About their great love they quietly talked.
April was for Spring like a brother,
With March she just often liked to walk.
Timid March gave her beautiful primroses,
Out of snowdrops he made a wreath,
He didn’t want to know any losses,
He promised her the whole world’s wealth.
Delicate and sweet was April.
He gave her a necklace of brilliant drops.
The life with him could be stable, - he said,
She’d be rich and would get good crops.
A wonderful May pleaded Spring:
You are my love! Take my wedding ring!
Be quick, Spring! Be my wife!
We’d be happy together the whole life.
And Spring trusted the handsome May.
Without any delay she sewed the white dress,
For the veil she took the apples blossoms.
That was her best and the happiest day.
The whole world was whirling in the dance.
May was getting married with Spring!
The Earth was full of love and romance,
Happiness to all this marriage would bring.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
Copyright © Larisa Rzhepishevska | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
How dangerous is to dance
on the tiptop of a small petal,
spinning round and round,
imitating the wind’s sound?
A falling might be lethal,
but would you miss the chance
to be wedded this spring?
While reading a new poem,
I went astray in the wood
with my leather bound book.
I rested near a hushed brook,
I had no water, I had no food,
but I had only a real problem:
to be wedded this spring!
And before it is too late,
I will tell that this song
wasn’t about me or you,
but what together we do
cannot be ever wrong,
When we share the fate
to be wedded this spring.
Copyright © João Camilo | Year Posted 2014