Tell me why a smile dies
on lips that don't know pain?
And why tears would stop
in regret
to be replaced by weariness in the eyes?
Tell me why happiness departs,
departs as a bird.
The tree becomes without the sound of
music.
Tell me why the silence of graves
fills the hearts
and the joy gets lost in tunnels
of illusion.
Tell me about the dry seasons,
about the storm secrets
and the rejection of the rain.
Tell my why poetry dies in youth
and letters dry.
Why the strings on a violin would rust?
Tell me, I ask you.
Tell me, because for every question
there is a wound.
The story that doesn't know the
truth and covered with deception.
Tell me, for the question has exhausted
me from the beginning.
Tell me where the morning was lost
and to where the moon traveled?
Tell me why children must grow
so they could love and cry.
Memories return as leaves
to be scattered by wind
and thrown under the evening's feet
to be hidden between stones
and rocks.
                                                     S.A. Kornas