Down In A Dream
( Lines for Anahit Arustamyan, poet of Armenia, author of My Wandering Muse, My Lyrical Tongue and The Phantom’s Dolphin )
The Armenian mountains,
I come down in a dream,
cross an old stone bridge,
step stones to ford a stream.
The wilderness is silent,
none could hear my call.
Before I wake, I look up,
see your portrait on a wall.
In dreams, no need for passports,
train time tables, money in your pocket.
I come home from Armenia
with your portrait in a locket.
In your lines speaks the soul of your land,
like a lit lamp it shines in your hand.