My Maple

My Maple

Ilya Prints

My maple, beloved my maple,

   you stand on a hillock, alone,

   deep-frozen and knee-deep in snow.

   What mysteries do you keep long nights,

   when darkness abounds with frights?

Just recently, fall here feasted,

   in brilliant green-yellow colors.

   With glowing gold-purple cover,

   you powerful branches spread out.

In dreams, you have found your lovely

   white-pearly slim birch, and fondly

   you touched her thin twigs, and whispered

   the secret well-cherished words.

Alone, seized by a blizzard,

   I am like you, my maple,

   I wander in white seas of snow

   and sing songs to winter of April.

I feel the arrival of springtime,

   and see  light of good  in  my doom,

   I’ll find strength to withstand bad weather,

   my garden again will bloom.

Oh, maple! Beloved my maple,

   you stand on a hillock, alone,

   deep-frozen and knee-deep in snow.

   What memories bother your soul?

   What hopes or dreams do console you?