It seems like, timelessly happy, they are still there
Under the same linden tree, laughing their troubles away
Like they were here to burry those fossils everywhere
To prop the skies with the church towers, to plow the day…
I can still see their ages climbing afresh like a morning dew
Away from the trenches unleashing these hyper fairy tales
Under this shady linden tree nothing is old, nothing is new
These villagers are crossing from age to age, blazing the trails…
Sometimes they shepherd in their barren pastures some mysterious flocks
Sometimes they work their present from bad to even worse
Who can teach them to sing, or to throw the rocks?
They rode throughout history the same and only horse.
Who can teach them to dream through the short winter days
To carve their weddings to count their legends stone by stone,
The stars aren’t that bright, they say, nowadays…
They used to be closer together, now they shine alone…
It seems like always they are seeping their glorious wine
While sharing their timelessness under the shady linden tree.
Are you still there, sweet villagers of mine?
Don’t get your nightingales through speech therapy!
Slavomir Almajan's Blog 