Under the summer sky, where the sun casts its rays like a skilled painter
Under the summer sky, where the sun casts its rays like a skilled painter,
I find myself in the memory of childhood, where every moment was a story,
And ripe cherries smiled at me from the branches, like ruby jewels,
A branch tapped on my window, whispering that a new moon was secretly born.
Hey, come see how the cherries shine, beautiful jewels on the twig,
I remember how I used to turn them into earrings as a child,
But the desire was too great, and I would quickly eat them, joy in my heart,
Their sweet-tart taste colored my memories in a vibrant, lively hue.
What joy it was to climb the tree, with pockets full and mouth stained red,
When I came down, my mother would look at me and laugh, with kindness in her voice,
"What kind of person is so dirty?" she would say, not with anger, but with love,
And she would wipe me clean, smiling, with a loving scolding that made me laugh.
I remember how she would hang cherries on my hat, like summer trophies,
My eyes would shine as I looked at her, enveloped in the warmth of her gaze,
The same summer, but not like before, calls us again to pick the fruits,
Even if we are no longer children, the taste of cherries remains enticing.
Together with the memories flowing through my veins, I lose myself in the charm of those days,
When time would stop and everything seemed a fairy tale of light and color,
Each cherry carried with it a story, a whisper of summer that will never fade,
And in my soul, childhood finds its place, like an eternal return.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
|