The Cranes

The flock of flying cranes
In the fathomless celestial blueness,
It reflects in the smooth surface of waters...

The forest flowers
Are shedding the delicate odors
Their beauty is boundless
Their secrets are unknown for us...

But the world is not innocent anymore,
Only the memory remains
In the souls, that remember the Antiquity,
Like cranes, hovering smoothly over the Time...

The signs in the stones
Became worn down.
Their creators died long ago,
But sometimes their souls return
To raise up again
To raise up again...

© 2004 translation by Wolffanger