It seems that a stone rolling herself down
a mountain peak falls. She actually looks for
life's deeper meaning. In the end, she plunges
to become river rock and absorbs the fossil's past.
This stone has feelings. She feels the tears
of time and the drops of rain. A river rock is
cheerfully shining in the sunlight, but she's
sad in the shadow of the mountain, melancholic
in the moonlit, and dreamy at night, especially
when the river embraces her with his waves.
This rock remains lonely in the dried-up
riverbed for a very long time to reflect on
her existence. She is the same stone-cracking,
staying in the altar of sacrifice, or
becoming the head of the corner, as Jesus
said. But, sometimes, she may become a
symbol as a philosopher's stone or she may be
the top of a pyramid. Regardless of
her structure, she will never bend, and she will
never change her being because
a stone will always remain
a part of the mountain from
which she was detached.
Poem by Marieta Maglas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a great poem, Marieta. So true, not all falls are falls. When we apparently fall we may discover the depths that others do never get to know. We get a thousand impressions and are able to fossilise history. We may fulfill so many functions but in the end we remain that stone, belonging to that enormous montain. No matter what, the beauty of the stone will eternalise in the eye of the beholders and be passed on from generation to generation before it becomes sand. You just got me in a dreamy mood and I was fantasising a bit on the imagesused in our poem. Only great poems tend to do that.