Vladimir Kush, Eclipse
Goodbye, My Precious
Goodbye, my precious!—How I long, lost friend,
For you to live forever and not die.
And yet your book must bear these words: The End.
Where the tree falls, it falls; there let it lie.
There lie the happy prelapsarian haunts
Of Eden garden—kiss the holy ground—
There, where the paradisal sun enchants
And casts its emblematic radiance round.
Ah, precious, precious, all the days gone by,
Unnoticed while they ran by like a river,
A river full of silver fish to fry
Where you, my love, still cast your rod forever:
My precious deathflower, doomed and lost to me,
In the dark dreamlands of dead memory.