Gf: Yuliya: Traveling To Yuliya Poem by Brian Johnston
Gf: Yuliya: Traveling To Yuliya
What a delight to realize,
While on my way to Leningrad,
You've given me my first 'White Night' -
A day stretched out before my eyes,
A night that won't exist for me,
As 'out of time' as love can be.
The clouds that stretch out without end
Are dusty white and indistinct,
Yet textured like a spongy fleece,
Like water ruffled by the wind
And frozen then, retains a view,
Abruptly shorn of azure hue.
Much like a child the haloed sun
Ingenuously tries to hide
Though brightly dressed against the cold.
Invisible but just for fun,
From cloud to cloud he's pleased to roam
While playing in a park near home.
With sudden shock I understand
What must have once been truly clouds
Are now pink fields of snow below,
Illusion fading as new land -
Dark sculpted, rocky slopes suffice
To shape the glacial flows of ice.
The stagnant sun prisms its light
Piercing a million floating shards
And cold coagulated clumps,
As frozen rivers end their flight
And spend themselves, collapse, give way,
Into the depths of Hudson Bay.
For Yuliya Verbitskaya 1990
When this poem was written, she had been my pen pal (weekly letters) for over 3 years. Her father was literally a rocket scientist and her mother was a Senior VP of Intourist (who managed over 2000 employees) in Saint Petersburg. All of my Yuliya poems are love poems though she only kissed me once! She (and her family) literally trusted me with her life and, when all was said and done, she loved me " enough not to marry" me! I am still honored to be her friend!
i'm guessing you were flying over Canada on way to U.S.S.R....or was it Russia by then? i like this poem. :) i like the rhyme scheme! i like the flow. but, ...i don't see how " Love" , the " Topic" fits into the poem. some favorite lnes: " And spend themselves, collapse, give way, Into the depths of Hudson Bay." bri :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 9:31:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Writing a love poem Bri, is not about saying how much we love someone as much as sharing how this loved one has changed our life. Anyone can claim to love another but does that make it true? In this poem, I'm 40+ (8 years divorced) and traveling half way around the world to spend more than a month in Russia with the family of an intelligent, beautiful, twenty-one-year-old Russian college student. I met her (at her high school) in her senior year.