The Spring in Amsterdam


Варшавская Яна

The Spring in Amsterdam

I see three Saint Andrew’s Crosses
Of the Amsterdam’s flag in the sky.
I see the water of the canals.
It’s spring, and my soul wants to fly!

Paving stones lay beneath my feet.
You can see bicycles everywhere.
People around look handsome and confident.
And a special aroma fills the Dam Square.

I’m walking through the narrow streets.
I see courting couples, walking hand in hand.
And I am feeling sorrow that I can’t
Walk here the same way with my beloved man.

I’ll leave Amsterdam very soon,
Not losing even a heel tap of my shoes here.
But I will not forget the Dam Square,
And other places, interesting for the sightseer.

The Amstel River is flowing, singing a happy song.
I see people rushing to the theater anyhow.
Apparently, the show is about to begin.
But why am I feeling sadness now?

March 30, 2012

For me you are the pattern breaking

For me you are the pattern breaking
And the axiom of tender evenings.
Among seven billion clones of God,
Only you managed to awake my feelings
With the hot coldness of your passions,
With your glances at me as if from above,
When you’ve come back from your wanderings
In the transcendence of love.

September 5, 2013

The Romance of Autumn

The leaves are dying outside the window.
The rain is weeping over them all morning,
Transparent beads of water lay everywhere,
Like silver threads on dress of autumn’s mourning.

The leaves are dying outside the window.
They didn’t turn into the pieces of white paper
On which you could write your letters to me,
The letters I was waiting for during September.

The leaves are dying outside the window.
They looked like golden coins days ago.
They look like cooper coins on the ground now.
A few weeks later, they’ll be covered with snow.

The leaves are dying outside the window.
And the church bells have already stopped ringing.
It’s pointless to look for sense of autumn.
The nature plays its game. The wind is singing.

The leaves are dying outside the window.
The rain continues. And the heaven isn’t blue.
But notwithstanding all my gloomy thoughts,
I’m hoping to hear words of love from you.

August 5, 2013

About the author:

Yana Varshavskaya is a poet and short story writer. She was born December 19, 1958 in the town of Belovo in the Kemerovo Region. In 1981, she graduated from the Biology and Soil Sciences Faculty of the Tomsk State University. Yana Varshavskaya is an author of two poetry books, “The paper is crying with watercolor tears,” Moscow, 2013, “The wanderer, who travels from autumn to summer,” Moscow, 2014, and a book of short stories “The little secrets,” Moscow, 2015. She was awarded the 2013 All-Russian Literary Prize “The Writer of the Year” and the winner in various categories of the 2011 – 2013 International Poetry Contest “Zolotaya strofa” (“The Golden Verse”).

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