He sat by the fireplace
Watching the dragon's dance,
Spin and rise, stretching its red tongues.
A shadow from flames slowly slithered
To veil his virile cheekbones.
His sculptured face
Looked jaded and pale;
Reeling eyes – white as bits of chalk,
White-washed with dire news delivered,
Searched again and again for me,
Declined to believe it.
In a flash I entered the place
Solely to touch with my parched lips
The barren scars of his burnt heart,
Pining for a soothing kiss . . .
Then I moved — a fractured star,
Spreading around embers;
When the last ember turns to ash,
Love blown away with remembrance.

First written in Russian 1984
Translated into English 1993

Copyright © 2000 Tatianyc. All Rights Reserved.