Nostalgia

By John Lars Zwerenz

When the purple drapes of the nascent night
Cover the veils of the mountainous greenery,
I wander amid the fountains and the statuary,
Lost in reflective pools of light.

And when the moon ascends to the sobbing sky,
Alone in the starry firmament of black,
I recall the ringlets upon your smooth, white back,
When the spring evenings blessed us, you and I.

How profound was our felicity,
How deep was our joy,
When we danced in the meadow as girl and boy,
With an ardor that shone like diamonds on the sea.

Now the drab days slowly pass,
As I walk upon the wan, old grass,
Beneath the cradle of the weeping trees;
In the darnel, wavering, high, then low,
Through the wilting, tremulous reeds I go,
Haunted by your name, which scents the wild breeze.

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