Talk of the Heart – A Meadow

I long... from the depths of my being I long
to break free of the rusted, heavy collar
that strangles my breath and my senses,
that paralyzes my mind... and my heart!

XXXX

A rover of horizons, alone, to the summits of worlds,
to a green meadow that borders the thresholds of God,
I fling myself down, faint, in a spreading, dancing shade
above handfuls of cloud that drift in the blue, and swim;
and as far as sight can reach, a world of pure, virgin beauty!
Proud in its ornamented sash...
in billowing splendors of every color

... and in the breath of the rain!

XXXX

And the rustling of the drowsy, towering poplars —
nothing cuts the outpouring of their whispered sorrow
but the moan of a flute, repeating, yearning and weary...
On it graze, and are never sated... white, contented sheep...

XXXX

Oh, its magic!... the nature of my country —
in my mind is an abiding here... in the gentle green meadow.
I, out of the city's clamor and its throngs, am a bundle of taut nerves,
and oh, my fear that one day they will be torn apart... and collapse!