for the poem thing: water
down by the river i wreath your namein blooms of blue and whiteand float them gently beside the bankto find my love tonight
your eyes are a bonfire burning brightbeneath the summer’d skyand with each press, your hand in minesets my poor heart alight
the woods are dark, the sky is stillthe trees witness our lovebut in the morning i wake aloneyet vanished flowers prove
that i had touched your heart that nightbeneath midsummer moonand though the months snail by, my lovei will remember you
this fiery bud you have left with mei treasure to my heartbut come the next kupala nightwe’ll meet, and never part
down by the river i wreath your nameand clasp your hand in minethe water is cold but i feel no chillas long as our souls entwine
(send me a word and I’ll write a poem)