POPLAR

POPLAR


I am a poplar tree crying like a sad river
I continue gathering more dust of forgetfulness

Leaving a path clean and pure

In the bark of my days
flows my silver-plated affection

My thoughts go jubilant and vibrant

When your memory arrives, the wind gets stronger
Is when more chromaticfully they are, synergy of this love

I crown your head with leaves of my flesh

Not in vain they spent twenty years or more
although they live to be four hundred

They say that the love is eternal. I've grown vigorous of life

I offfer my silver-plated leaves to you
in the ritual of death dressing myself as a holy cemetery

I remain offering this winning love.
I am the daughter of Helios and in crossed destinies
fall petrified tears like poplar leaves

Copyright © Patricia Araya