On the Avenue

Written by: Aleh Barysau

I'm on the avenue. 
On the left a house – 
at the corner above - 
figures of stone,
on the right – a bookstore...
A book. Yours! I'm glad.
Not seen you for ages!
I leaf it over, reading intently –
You bury yourself in a verse.
An image arises.
Time bygone,
Eternity come 
beckons a poet
in marble and lines –
as a book on a shelf
not as a needle in the haystack – 
into pages to merge into rhymes 
from petty sum, from cruel fate.
Poetry – element. 
News is reproach –
a lump in the throat. 
The house at the corner, 
up on the right –
a woman of stone
and two children.