"Black roses twine with crimson In the flowers by my plate."
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
translated from the Russian by J. Kates
To Friends
I drink to the health of friends,
Constant, however few,
In treacherous, lying days
Friends unwavering, true.
I drink to the health of friends,
Distant, alone, but dear,
Friends alone as I am,
Breathing an alien air.
Tears water the wine in my cup,
But the stream is pure and sweet;
Black roses twine with crimson
In the flowers by my plate.
My cup, to the health of friends,
Constant, however few,
In treacherous, lying days
Friends unwavering, true.
To the health of those near but far,
Those whom my heart still loves,
And remembering those who are
Buried in lonely graves.
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