Someone spotted a fruit still young Shook the trunk of the tree - it fell Iíll sing of the one who left songs unsung Never learned if his voice would excel Maybe Fate wouldnít cover his bets And he got poor luck of the draw Taut strings settled down on frets With a barely visible flaw He started with a cautious beat But never managed to complete... Unfinished cord rung out flat Did not inspire or entice A dog was barking while some cat Was hunting mice It is ironic, donít you think? He left unfinished jokes and quips He left untasted golden drink And didnít even wet his lips For debates he just opened the doors Still unsure and slow to begin And like droplets of sweat though the pores His soul seeped right from under the skin Only barely started to aim Only barely stepped on the floor Hardly even got into the game And the judge hadnít opened the score He reached for knowledge A to Z But his ascent was not to be... No revelations to impart The well of wisdom hardly drilled And love for she who held his heart Left unfulfilled It is ironic, donít you think? Stopped rushing hands on broken dial And still remain out of synch All that he did not reconcile From my lips not a falsehood could flow: For the pure verse fervor he felt Wrote poems for her in the snow But regrettably, snow poems melt At the time blizzards dumped by the bale There was freedom to write in the snow And the biggest snowflakes and hail He would catch with his lips on the go He rode a silver-clad landau But never made it to her door He ran, but did not break confine He flew, but only reached partway While Taurus, his celestial sign Was lapping frigid Milky Way It is ironic, donít you think? When by few seconds one falls short When just a single missing link Makes flight abort Ironic, isnít it? Alright, You laugh, and I cannot refrain Horse in mid-race, bird in mid-flight... Who is to blame?
© Boris Gendelev. Translation, ?