(for Barbara)

Once I heard a breeze of springtime
    blow a phrase to me:
"WHO who... WHO who... Who can hear?"
    rustling through the trees.
And the moon was gently glowing
    on that lonely night,
While my tears kept on rolling
    like the ocean tide.

I'm a man apart from nature,
    blow inside my head,
I can't feel the grass, the water,
    I can't feel... I'm dead.
I can feel a pounding headache
    of a senseless birth,
I can see kids dressed in leather,
    sex and drunken mirth.

Tell me, time, have I turned wiser
    after all these years
Of pop culture and Budweiser?--
    wash away my tears.
And you, mountains, forests, oceans,
    and you, distant stars,
Heal me with your soothing potion,
    take away my scars.

I don't care for the glitter
    of some front-page fame,
I'm just another poet
    like a candle flame.
And the gentle breeze is blowing
    deep inside my eyes,
While I whisper to a stranger:
    "WHO who... Who am I?"

                                               December 28, 1993
                                            --Alexander Shaumyan