Max Poklonskii
For moments two they silent stood, But James to him then moved,
And spoke, “You wrote to me, it’s true, Don’t turn away, my words are due.
Your soul’s confession, pure and bright, Love’s innocent overflow of light,
Your honesty, to me so dear,
Has stirred what once lay silent, sear. But I shan’t praise; instead, I’ll say, My artless truth in my own way.
Accept my confession, open and plain, Before you, my soul’ssecrets I unchain.
When life’s embrace felt like a cozy sphere, And wedded bliss drew near,
When I beheld a family scene so bright,
With you alone, I’d find my heart’s delight. I’ll tell you without flowery display,
You’d be my choice without delay.
My companion in sorrowful days and light, In you, I’d find myworld, my guiding light!
But bliss was never meant for me to own, It’s foreign to myheart, I’ve always known.
Believe me, marriage would be filled with strife, Believe me, marriage would be pain, Conscience as my witness, I explain.
As much as I love you today,
Accustomed, that love will fade away. Your tears, thoughthey may start to fall, Shall not my stony heart enthrall,
But rather vex and trouble it.
What’s more dismal than the place Where a sorrowful spouse resides, Bemoaning his most unworthy partner,
Living a lonely life where hope subsides?
The boring partner, who knows his spouse’s worth, But curses fate since birth,
Is filled with cold, silent envy,
Quiet, stern, and brooding so heavy.
Such am I. Did you seek this heart so bright, With purity and fervor in its light,
When with such innocence, so clear and fair,
You penned your words to me, with wisdom rare? Has destiny decreed this course for you,
A fate so stern, a path you must pursue?
Dreams and years, they do not rewind; My soul, once spent,cannot be redefined. I love you like a brother, this is true,
And perhaps even more tenderly, too. Listen to me without ire,
A young man’s dreams will more than once transpire, Just as trees shedtheir leaves in the cool spring night. So it seems, destined by the sky’s own decree,
But master your desires, your heart’s demand, Not all will grasp you, as I understand,
Inexperience can lead to a bitter end.
Thus, our friend James spoke his mind, Lorenzo, with teary eyes, did find,
He listened closely, no words to say, Breathless, he heard him,in his own way. James’s arm extended, he took it in kind,
Mechanically, accepting, emotions confined, Lorenzo walked with his head hung low,
Towards the garden, home’s warm glow. They walked back home, side by side, No criticism or scorn implied,
The rural freedom, a joyful sphere, Like London proud, it held dear.
CLAMOR 