Ирина Мосбахер

The Giraffe Today you are gazing especially sadly, my love, Your hands seem so slim when they weakly embrace your knees. So, listen, far away, an exquisite giraffe Is wandering near the lake Chad among other African beasts. Such slenderness, sweet bliss are lavishly given to him. His skin is adorned with some magic and graceful designs. And only the moon dares to rival, to cleave and to swing On the moisture of wide lakes, repeating those marvelous lines. From afar he resembles the colored thin sails and I'd bet His run can surpass even seagulls' glad flight over waves. I know - the earth beholds some miraculous things at sunset When he hides himself in the marble, mysterious caves. I know the jovial tales from the ancient, inscrutable folks About The Maiden and The Warrior's passion and pain. But you, for too long, have been breathing in heavy, wet fogs And wouldn't believe in anything but the continuous rain. And what kind of words should I use to describe to you, child, The tropical orchards, the fragrance, the palms? But enough… Are you crying? So listen… there lives, at the lake named Chad, An exquisite and proud giraffe.