tsarina

 

     D. Nurkse
     THE STONE HOUSE AT FUENTES VIVAS

      I had fallen asleep by the fountain
      and woke when you called--
      both your voice and the voice
      narrating the dream
      sealed in the same hush.

      One sparrow was bathing
      in the chipped marble pool,
      another in dust,
      and their free shadows
      sang without effort

      or so I thought:
      a straw was circling
      the wall of flume
      where the spray fell
      back to the lip of the basin.
      Arcturus and Vega
      were reflected there, broken,
      the spaces between them intact--

      it seemed in that nap
      I had grown old
      and learned to be happy
      so I followed you

      steeply uphill,
      ready for you to show me
      a lit window, a door,
      the gap in Andromeda
      where the roof must be.