I ascend the serpentine path to the mountain
the windy summit of the grand ridge glistens.
I scale magic steps to the clouds, tinted eosin,
a gold sun walks in the blue sky and listens.
And when the night descends, I climb the flighty stairs
to the lonely moon staring at the orphan earth,
then ascend to the twinkling stars dancing in pairs,
wondering if they know the meaning of mirth.
Dense dreams detour, thick thoughts ticktack in a row.
Life is evermore poetry, though many keep them apart.
But tell me now my dear, oh, please, tell me now,
Where are the magic stairs leading to your heart?
Paul Hartal's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Magic Stairs by Paul Hartal )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(22 March 1941 -)