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THE BRIGHT DAY,
1942
By the jasmine lies a stone,
Beneath the stone lies treasure.
On the path stands father.
It is a bright, bright day.
The silver poplar’s flowering,
And the centifolia rose,
Beyond – grow curling ramblers,
And tender, milky grass.
Never again have I been
As happy as then.
Never again have I been
As happy as then.
There can be no returning,
Nor has it been given
To tell what perfect joy
Filled that garden heaven.
Arseniy Tarkovsky |
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