Warmth

Memory freezes between my fingers,

my eyes unwinking stare,

while the birds migrate to warmer places

in despair.

The victory of winds it is,

not of the heart,

that my cheeks will not blush

from the warmth of memory.

My words follow the birds:

They rest where poetry is.

Armenuhi Sisyan, Armenia

Translation Armenuhi Sisyan – Stanley Barkan