KRYSTYNA P. 28  

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And on your  eye - lashes

there was a bright dew,

And in your hair -

a smell of the past summer.

You smiled at the stars, at the flowers.

You were quiet like a silence...

The violet heathers followed you -

they withered, when you let them go.

All the winds looked for you -

You were like a dream :

 calm, beautiful, lost in thoughts,

 so near, and so far.

And on your eye - lashes

there was a bright dew,

And in your hair -

a smell of the past summer.

 / Krystyna Maria Postawa /

Wrap me up with the twig of jasmine

and say : "it's the spring".

In the smell of linden

your eyes are dreaming

looking straight at me.

Still one more summer'll follow us,

Still one more rose'll die away,

Still one more butterfly'll sit down on your shoulder.

And you'll say then : "so yet ?",

and you'll think : "forever"...

You'll forget all the years,

which weren't yours.

You'll lose your past

in the smell of linden.

And again with the twig of jasmine

you'll wrap up

my eyes, my hands, my heart.

 / Krystyna Maria Postawa/

going with the flowers in front of you

to nowhere ?

Who are you

going with the wind into the green spring,

into the white winter ?

Who are you

daydreaming with the violet of the perished ones ?

Who are you

tired with the evening's doubt ?

I think, you don't know ...

Who are you, when you think about him ?

Who are you, when you are alone ?

Who are you, when with tears of love

you cuddle the pillow ?

Who are you when you believe ?

Who are you when you doubt ?

Who are you when the life lose the sense ?

I think, you don't know ...

Who are you smiling,

dancing with your hair on the wind ?

I think, you don't know ...

Who are you closing your eyes,

when happiness in near ?

/ Krystyna Maria Postawa /

Talk with me about the rain,

Talk with me about the clouds,

Talk with me about the flowers,

which grow wet.

Talk with me about the river,

Talk with me about the meadow,

Talk with me about the trees,

which roar.

Maybe the leaves'll smell even in autumn,

maybe you'll hear a known breath ...

Maybe you'll find the old way

in your remembrance ?

Maybe you'll go with me again ?

Then I'll ask you again :

Talk with me about the rain,

Talk with me about the clouds,

Talk with me about the flowers,

which grow wet.

Talk with me about the river,

Talk with me about the meadow,

Talk with me about the trees,

which roar.

I walk onto the faded carpet

of yellow autumn's leaves

And I return in my mind to "then" ...

I understand already well, that it remained today

only my words :

Talk with me about the rain,

Talk with me about the cloud ...

Talk with me once again ...

in the colours of butterflies

love is clossed

and so light like they

dancing

smiling

with desired good luck

dared into the depth

she wraps up your eyes

with the colourful smell

of the dye.

/ Krystyna Maria Postawa /

Just now I come back silently

whence the mallows and the lilacs bloom.

Just now I see again my home,

inside you and my dreams.

The flame of the candle shivers on the table,

In the corner hides a new day,

And you are, you wait you dream,

And you yearn and dream like noone.

Just now you come back in the morning,

whence on the meadows the dew glitters.

Just now you see again us,

another world, other lilacs.

As if all is like it was,

As if still the day isn't on.

But you know you'll wait and dream,

You'll dream still like noone.

/ Krystyna Maria Postawa /