Dreams

When I sleep under cold stars
In the singing of nightingales
I don’t hear the noisy cars,
I don’t whisper my secret prays
In my dreams I can touch your hand,
Walk with you in the grove of palms,
In the stream of the sunlight, and
Be forever between your arms
We can play snowballs at night,
Watch the bridges of Petersburg…
But the sky becomes pink and white,
I wake up in the rain and fog
If I could I will mix the world:
Falling snow and minarets,
East and West, destitution and gold…
Maybe, we can together? Let’s!

Poem and photocollage - Elena Tiugaeva (Mel Doretskaya)