My poem is a rock or a pebble
     gliding on the water of the ocean...
Or maybe my poem is a naked girl with long
     blond hair, sitting on a rock
          amidst the green weed and coral reefs,
My poem is the wind blowing through her hair,
     tearing down the branches, whirling in the sand,
My poem is a hand gently pressed against
     a carpet of leaves,
My poem is a soul weeping, weeping in loneliness,
My poem is youth, my poem is anger, my poem is tears,
My poem never ends, never stops, always flows,
My poem defies all time, it is a snake
     coiled into the Magic Circle,
My poem is love--love given, love received
     and love hoped for,
My poem takes me outside of myself and leads me
     inside your little heart,
My poem murmurs and cries, it breaks and it rhymes,
     it goes where I want it to go and sometimes
         it
           just
              goes,
It fills up the empty spaces,
My poem is hollow and musical, it never leaves me,
     it is always there with me,
         crying through my eyes!
 

                                                    October 20, 1987
                                                 --Alexander Shaumyan