The grass like words in a poem, grew up on the hill,
With the pulsing season birds` bitter and honey thrill;
So green and yellow written in the sad memory:
Words on painted crosses of wood and ivory;
Blessed words on lips and clouds passing far away;
Grass grew around the shinning words of yesterday;
Grass and fluorescent flowers of our good night ,
And long echo of Narcissus calling the first light
From whose tender drops the world caught life,
And temptation of good got dim shadowy strife.
Words like moon reflected on the time`s waters
Brought the stratified Yorick`s smiles of our brothers;
It seems a wet moon with broken troubled waters.
We sag and summon back the past Job`s heirs`hearth
To find the sealed mountain whose true faith is enough .