Gratitude, Vizma Belševica

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What happened between us
In the moonlit confusion,
I gathered together and pressed
Into the bell of a single snowdrop.
I sealed the petals with my lips
And placed it in the leaves of a book.
When I turn the pages, it opens once more
In its dusty cemetery of words,
And rises up, confounding death,
To take the way it only knows.
The path is found, can you hear
The belled snowdrop ring in my heart?
See how whitened I walk
And leave prints of golden pollen,
But they do not see or know
the misery that issues from my joy.

Gratitude

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