BREATHING WITH HEART

In the yellow room, faded, memory-evoking photographs patiently invite people to remember. The sweet, gentle scent of pink hyacinths caresses the air. Outside, in the garden, the old peach trees have long since shed their sweet, twiggy fruit, and while in the kitchen the jam was simmering, sweet and flowery, everyone was sitting at the table, eager to eat it spread on bread. With your headband, like the daughter of an industrious sultan, you stirred jam, and it was good to watch you balancing the wooden spoon between your tiny but firm fingers.

Ominous storm-clouds threaten in thundering clouds, While in broad meadow no lightning-struck tree-stump shakes; What Apokfrif message does the troubled deep send to man? The orange sunset was all at once crimson, then purple, And conscious desolation broke upon me again! See, my dear, you have reminded me again! The farther you are from me in body, your golden soul is overflowing, visceral! The prison-guards of my loneliness now lock me in my selfish prison as a pitiful prisoner. Is there still the horse farm there near Chesztve, which thou didst once mention in every other word? Could you have felt again in the saddle of your night-black stallion your redeeming independent freedom, which has shaken off all the burdens and cares of your pregnant, hard-working weekdays?

Even from far away, your laughter is always reaching me.I must break out of my bars, at least some day; and though it may be many times that the trials of years of usurpation may be heaped upon us, in your inner endlessness you will be freer than ever.Your children are slowly treading the years of adolescence, and I cannot yet know whether you have remained the same as when you opened your rare heart of gold and cage to me, or whether you have turned three hundred and sixty-five degrees as wife and mother!