Tess D’Urberville
Something new springs in my heart,
when I felt the season’s apparel.
So clouds are flourish and ephemeral
And my frailty makes my folly hard.
So I expect my lover in the space.
He is not gentle like a nightingale,
his voice is getting dark and harsh,
but my soul fell in buds like flash.
Pleasure of sap is warming my flesh.
Year ago who shuttered me was a male,
He is a bird who sucked my jets,
he is a noble robber of my scents.
My breath and petals are getting pale,
but the death is not longing prospect.
My life won’t be miserable so I expect.
9th Feb 2003, Maria Chulova