Better Than A Dream
I could have come to you in a Chinese junk,
an Egyptian sail boat on the Nile,
rich with Oriental treasures in my trunk,
Persian ruby to reflect your smile.
Through fantasy I came to you by camel,
then by rickshaw and paddle steamer,
in a barge on low land canal and channel
with no bus or tram for a dreamer.
I would have walked,
if it weren’t for border controls,
people asking for passports and papers,
eyes hard with mistrust and suspicion.
I could have walked,
and reached my destination.
I could have landed in your city square
in an air balloon,
but in reality, more straightforwardly,
I met you at the airport.
The other ways would have taken too long,
been too slow.
We would have been together far less soon.
Flew over the south Caucasian mountains.
Here and there, I saw the bare stone gleam.
We stood in Republic Square by the fountains.
Felt your hand, was better than a dream.