Beloved
I
In these verses that I write
I want you to find your dream
in this pale‑blue, pensive sky
as you gaze, thinking.
II
Feeling each moment draw near,
swift as gold forming from the sunset;
hearing the stubborn whining engine cry
while you fly through the heat of the month.
III
And you will think: What a promising year.
How much sun on the plains. And perhaps,
when you sigh and gently close your eyes…
only your dream remains.