To T.E. Lawrence and S.A.



    Verus amor

This warmth
is the beginning of the sky
in permafrost of the uniform crowd
where animal death lasts.
The beginning of the sky
is in that God's gift
where unity of two
resembles Hallelujah of eternal existence
and compels
to believe


In darkness of his eyes
had been created from Chaos
the world-
that sharp flash of your happiness
in the space of pain,
a lightning of the soul
in the overcome body.
...The night descended
with black snowfall
upon the dead earth
like hope to rise from the dead:
and in the murky sky
pain was blazing
with the lines of ancient Genesis
where there was no death yet.


Kisses were like the petals
of silent flowers
in the last sunset,
shining in the waves of memory.
...In agony was resurrected,
you returned
to the simple flowers
upon the bank of the celestial Euphrates.



In darkness of the body
to recognize by touch
radiant existence,
joining in liberating of the soul
for a moment
of eternity.


              In Arabia

Life was oozing with sweat and blood,
your time was flowing with blood and sweat.
You sacrificed your blood,
slaking thirst with your own sweat.
This salt is a disappearing sea,
the essence of your hope,
and limpid waves which had caressed
the coast of sleep
crashed with blood and sweat
upon the sand of death.
Death had been trampled
on the way of faith,
and the damp wind of freedom
had cooled the parched lips.
But the moonless night fell
into the chasm of inexistence,
and salt of stars
scorched your lips
with deathly thirst of solitude.

...while an immense sea
was unrolling the scrolls of the waves
like the Book of Genesis
behind a swerve.


It was your road to Golgotha of excruciating fame
your way into a hollow of pain,
into the essence of the world,
into dumbness of a collapse.
Your glory is in suffering.
Our will is cancelled in the sky.
Only funeral knells
for all the alives and the deads
sound like freedom.


Silence of the name
was an irresistible call
throughout all
the earthly hollows,
the blows,
the glows
of the falling world.
Was only the name of silence.


It were neither gargoyles in the Gothic air,
nor brittle memory of limestone,
nor the heavy waves above a starry abyss,
nor sharpness of a lost temple:
it was only an unutterable name
like the last sigh
upon the celestial plain
of the earthly cross.


You had been attracted
with an irresistible abyss
of that expectation
which broke like voice.
Cloistered with the ruins from life,
you found your glory
in splendour of pain
of a silent name.


The nights had been black like blood,
similar to the end of creation.
Your patient silence
had been like a prayer for the unknown.
Death had resembled ultimate tiredness.
But thereafter after-death came
like breath
with the alive look
of a photograph.


His death
remained like your life
in the destroyed world's chaos
where the Spirit of God
flied upon the dark waves
before creation
of your existence.


Under streaming caress of the white garments
there is Damascus steel of your pain -
your soul:
the black sky
above death upon the cross.
...There is a night of silence,
and the whip of the road from Calvary,
leading to infinite light.


Memory of his touches
on your body
in the earthly inexistence
was awakening for eternal life.


No, death does not separate.
It lifts all the obstacles:
and joins
in immortality of faith
where there is no solitude.


God's trampled gift
is on the world's altar.
Pain lasts to vanish
like smoke
in the sky.
The soul hardens
like a drop of blood
on the miraculous icon of life.


There is God's tenderness
in this intimacy.
In this unity
there is eternal life.
This love
is like a prayer
on the Mount of Olives
before the Crucifixion
upon the world's Calvary.



          Olga Nikiforova

9/ III-2009 - 14/ VIII-2010.


© 2011 Olga Nikiforova

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