Carl and Clara Bashny.Net

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I remember, Clara, your children's fingers
in her hand a clumsy dark-skinned boy,
gruff embarrassment, bewildered
the sudden generosity of life,
in which he will never believe.
It was me.

I remember Clara, unbearably red color
you dressed in the summer
bold coral I remember our first waltz, inept, bold
otgadku open secret, which is not
and I - well, of course, the - you gave clarinet
. Clara, we have matured.

Do you remember, Clara, the place and time,
where we will never be?
The smell of gray roads inviting to foreign cities
we started with New York, but preserved
Amsterdam somewhere in the swirling dust of unknown destinies;
It is not our tribe.

Our - it was to close, simple and clear
not turning drama or fanfares.
Once you've laughed loudly, Clara,
I looked at you, and he was happy
I have played, and you - you have me dancing
. We are so breathe.

Corals fade in the late autumn twilight
Clarinet I'm not a hundred centuries uncovers
Once you've laughed -
Now you die.
I, as I can survive.
Not booster.