From the Page of Memories

Do you remember?...
It was one spring morning;
the car rolling over the emerald earth toward a neighboring village, and we drifting above the hills!
And you handed me a keepsake, saying: Read it — it is the anthem of the day, the anthem of the hour!...
I am reading it still!...
It lies before me now; I gaze at its delightful words and call back the memories of that day — and it is all that remains.

★

I said to you: You are a prophet. And you laughed that limpid, rippling laugh and asked: Why?
I said: Then who taught you all this?
At that you smiled at the naïveté of my question and looked at me as one looks at a small child; but soon gravity settled over the features of your face, and you stared into my eyes and said: You! Your love!...
I did not understand then, for it was the first lesson my soul was learning... and I went back to devouring the lines!
And when you turned to me again, you caught sight of a tear glistening on my cheek and cried reproachfully:
You are crying? Why?...
I said: Because I am happy — these are the tears of my happiness.

And you turned the current of my thoughts, smiling, and waved your hand toward the world outside:
Look at this color — it is the color of youth. Do you love it?...
And here I broke my silence and whispered:
I love it, because it is rosy — the color of your cheeks!...
Yes, I felt what effect that had on your soul, and I waited for the stillness to settle...

★

Here is the earth putting forth its blossoms the color of roses!
And the paper is in my hand,
and the memory stirs in my thoughts and fills my imagination —
but you... where are you?