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What the bird could hear
Time, when the space go asleep,
No one to prevail they knew.

No soul done to dream insincere.

No sky can escape that of thought
To be near
To the eye of grace new.

The sigh is the heart’s atmosphere.

For whate’er the mountains stayed
As the myths with those few,
The sea-birth hymns the light over there:

Joy ancient and Earth for you.

    (07.09.2014 – 12.09.2014
    dacha by S. Posad)

If Poetry was Music

If Poetry was Music, – what, mostly, is, —
I’d rather be a voice, that of the melos
Plays beyond the Tacts, that of the lyriс
Freer than forebound words of textured song,
Like a strange wonderer, ne’er care if right or wrong
Half-slept Composer planned it be, for world
Could learn its inner history; and that of stress,
Of hidden breath, of rarest thought in notes unread —
«Twould be a witness of the sacred dialect
For new-found sounds be your own mistery.
A song, sings newborn song, a dreaming dream —
Much I would love it can be; – honestly,
I’d dare to mix then a sort of nostalgie
For things unheardable with archi-tenor fancy,
What could be like no energy th’Sky needs to hymn
A Scene of very Soul of the pure Listening.
This glancing Myth! And you in it, you genious
Are the creator of the future bliss, at once:
That inspiration yours brings that what I’ve brought not:
The orphies[70 - The «orphies» meant to be «the orpheisms» in shorten friendly use of this word, and all of you let never stay doubting then, that, originally, it relates to Orpheus the Archi-poetic Singer and to the thoughts around him and his themes, all Haides-raising.] from within you join my pauses,
And it is like the Chance compose that I ne’er heard, —
No falsed, no spoilt, – and this is might be somewhat…
What could be told thus of the sacrifice in notes?[71 - This last line, here, also was thought to be written as: «What could be told, thus, of the sacrifice of loving note?» However, this second sense is rather more poetically difficult and emotionally complicated.]

    (13.11.2014 – 03.12.2014;
    Moscow dacha by S. Posad)

On the new date in the World Poetic Calendar, which happened to be called The Negative Capability Day

/To the KSMA friends,
With gratitude to J.K.
For the initiating as such a great idea of the Day./

Three years later, five years since th’Apocalypse[72 - The year 2012, as you all might remember, was the expected year of the End of the World, what was promissed by Indian Calendar of Maya, so the reader can stay doubting not in those words of a poem; – accordingly, the year 2017 will be the year of 225th Birthday of P.B.Shelley, a big friend of J.Keats, what I suppose is mentioned to be somehow symbolical for all those who reads that poetry with their hearts.],
Which never happened, that of what old doubts
Be, still: if really happened so ’twill be not, —
The Beauty, dove-tailed thought[73 - This is a beautiful expression of John Keats from his literaturiously-remarkable Letter dated by 21st (22d or 27th, the world still guessing) of December 1817, in which he expressed that original thought of so him-called «Negative Capability», what especially has become a titled idea of the new-brought day in the World Poetic Calendar.], will diseclipse,
As ever, people’s minds from dead uncertainty
In bounds of its genial transgnostic Art.
New coming Dawn will phrase on that. Redeemed world!
The Biggest Doubter of goodly mankind died
On freest Sunday[74 - As you may know, in Roman Catholic Calendar, the date of death of St Thomas the Apostle, Thomas «the doubting», as he also used to be called in history, before 1969, was thought to be exactly on 21st of December. In that line, where I’ve been saying «on Sunday», firstly, I kept my eye on that coincidential truth, that the both days – of the Keats’ Letter and The Negative Capability Day 2014 – the Sundays. The rest of supposive guessing here could be of that, if St Thomas himself died, too, on Sunday, however this sort of exact truth for me is still unknown.], and wasn’t it for Poet’s word,
Who came up’n new time to shake Great Negus[75 - The original Latin root of the words the «negative», «negativism»; to those, who wonder, how really objective I am in using as such a great meaning in the tight context of the poem, I should answer by addressing their quests to the last lines of the Keats’ Letter, and so, by reminding them of the very pointed there the «about-Shelley’s»; – with that, you can find your own way to analize the pre-motivation of me-written line of «hand-shake»..] hand,
Soothing no sword, if not in name of th’Unforeseen
All-Love? Unreasonable, called by Air so, Love,
That goes through the bounds of a Life-denial…
Mind, no ugly Trial on this day will be. —
How Mystery of Fate and Time takes Dream Exiled
Back to Light? not samely, as the Beauty ends old history?[76 - In fact, there is the second variant of this line: «…not samely, as the Beauty starts new history?» (…its newer history?); – so, let the readers be more enthusiastically creative, in cooperating their own vision with mine, in thinking that, how, and which way, towards the history, the Beauty universally improves itself.]

    (18.12.2014 – 21/22.12.2014;
    Moscow dacha by S. Posad)

The Truth of Shelley’s Ghost

/To Lynn Shepherd,

An author of «Treacherous Likeness»,

A book me-read in feeling of irrational, unexplanable regret/

A Shade – there’s the dark echoing: —
«Of a noblest kind!» – slides in,
All silent, pre-materialized.
There can be seen no eyes
Of maid surprised, no scene
Of fatal cries. A monster
Felt from high-poetic stars,
He swam across the sea of Death,
And, after seven lives of storm,
His ugly look how eloquent!
Much peaceful though. The light-rays
Seem are not to aggravate the lines
On his still brow, so ’tis like now
As he tries his light-way back.
Envoked to face the old dream’s wrack.