The Yakut winter wind polishes its gleaming nature
The river shines, hard in a multitude of mirrors
While the soft snow settles, caressing the landscape
Shamans, in yurts, teepees, chant their song
Resounding rhythm flowing, to the drum
Echoes tapped across the wintry sun
And the sun, the sun that nearly lost its balance
Tipped so far from the horizon in its trance
So the snow only shines at night
While the signs that show Spring has come
Are still the sounds of the Shaman’s drum
And the shaman, her eyes lit by fire, the yurt by song
So dance, you beautiful woman, dance, barefoot in the snow
For soon you will chance upon fields of fresh summer flowers
And slumber in meadows perfumed by nature, untouched by the plough
“And the sun, the sun that nearly lost its balance tipped so far from the horizon in its trance”
I can’t be certain about how many thoughts per second are blown away by winds of time but I’m certain the above expression well-hidden in the depth of my memory would never be at their reach…
Love & Light
I feel like looking in her eyes and read the poetry all the time in my mind….
Ah! Good idea!
There is such music in those words. An absolutely beautiful poem
Yes…and a really mystical culture there..
I love the sound of your poem and the look of that girl.
Thanks very much…don’t know her name..!
mesmerizing!
Aha! You are under the shaman’s spell!