The preacher, so deep!--
Give generously therefore,
For heaven isn’t cheap.

Above these churches,
Where sham miracles are sold,
Glows the silver moon.

When I die, my love,
Think of these bare linden trees--
They’ll blossom in spring.

Home is this boulder
By the pond, as I rest here--
My neighbors, the frogs.

Look! The gentle sunlight
Is so playful on these shrubs,
Swaying in the wind.

                        October 14, 1999
                      --Alexander Shaumyan