PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In the lakeside leafy groves a friar

Escaped the world; out there he passed

His summer days in constant prayer,

Deep studies and eternal fast.

Already with a humble shovel

The elder dug himself a grave;

And calling saints to bless his hovel,

Death, nothing other, did he crave.



So once upon a falling night he

Bowed down beside his droopy shack

And meekly prayed to the Almighty.

The grove was turning slowly black;

Above the lake a mist was lifting;

Through milky clouds across the sky

The ruddy moon was softly drifting,

When the water drew the friar's eye......



He looks there, puzzled, full of trouble,

A fear he cannot quite explain,

And sees: the waves begin to bubble

And suddenly grow calm again.

Then -- white as first snow in the highlands,

Light-footed as nocturnal shade,

There comes ashore and sits in silence

Upon the bank a naked maid.



She eyes the monk and brushes gently

Her hair and water off her arms.

He shakes with fear and looks intently

At her and at her lovely charms.

With eager hands she waves and beckons,

Nods quickly, smiling from afar,

Then -- shoots within two flashing seconds

Into still water like a star.



The glum old man slept not an instant

All night, all day not once he prayed:

Before his eyes still hung and glistened

The wondrous girl's persistant shade....

The grove puts on the gown of nightfall;

The moon walks on the cloudy floor;

And there's the maiden, pale, delightful,

Redining on the spellbound shore.



She looks at him, her hair she brushes,

Nods, sends him kisses drolly wild,

Plays with the waves -- caresses, splashes --

Now laughs, now whimpers like a child,

Moans tenderly, calls louder, louder.....

"Come, monk, come, monk! To me, To me!...."

Then -- vanishes in limpid water....

And all is silent instantly...



On the third day the ardent hermit

Was sitting by the shore, in love,

Awaiting the enticing mermaid,

As shade was lying on the grove....

Dark ceded to the sun's emergence;

By then the monk had disappeared,

No one knew where, and only urchins,

While swimming, saw a hoary beard.