Ilania Cyaalá

Springtime’s first green is gold,
Her subtlest hue to hold,
Her morning song’s the flower;
But only so one hour.
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Roaming clouds
Portray nocturnal longing
And a vanishing road.
A full moon looks down.
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It seems I have desired thee in numberless ways, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age…
Eternally…
My enchanted heart has made and remade the lyrical necklace,
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How sad to see lives spent
Before a box that has no life
No breath, no song to touch the soul
Just shadows on a flickering screen.
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I run as a wapiti runs in shadowy wood,
Mad with his own wild aroma.
Tonight is a night of mid-May,
A south wind blows.
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Moored on sea foam,
As the sun sets,
A traveler’s sadness wells up.
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My soul is bursting with many a song
Just as orchards burst with August fruit,
But you cannot savour any –
My music is not my own.
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Your singing is a crystal mist
That plays upon my soul
In woodlands far and magical
You twirl a farandol.
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After a spring rain
Partridges perch in jasmine trees.
Roses bloom in scented gardens,
Ivy climbs ancient walls,
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A broom stood in the corner
Looking so downcast
When she heard a melody
That made her heart beat fast:
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Summon the dawn and raise me the wind.
Spin me the wheel and dance me the day.
Toss me a ray of sun,
Fetch me a glass of dreams.
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Jade and lilacs
Amber skies
Nightingale whispers
Nocturnal sighs
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I sat beside a hill
Glistening with emerald dew,
A single star was twinkling
In the misty sunrise blue.
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