For Hamo Ayvazian
The breeze adores your curls, your eyelashes and the joy
That beats in your dazzling child's heart,
And all around is song, the birds, the weather,
Your bright thoughts, your pure silken words.
(the word "the weather" in line 3, the Web dictionary seems to say "the time", which one is better?)
How could I say it more clearly to you than with these words:
The weather is mild here among the exquisitely ordered plum trees,
Let's relax, rest our backs against their silky bark.
The woman with the ivory fan is untying her hair
As petals rain down. First she sings. Then she stops.
What do her words mean? And what of her luxurious silences
The drones are making their vague music,
And above them, I hear the elegiac song of bees,
My house is full of laughing friends who love me.