The Fifth

Love is the fifth part of the everyday measure – 
Not evening, nor night, nor day, and nor morning,
Sun shone in night if you’re coming, my treasure, 
Morn’s darker than night just when back you are going.

Love is the fifth season of usual year – 
Not summer, nor spring, nor autumn, nor winter,
Just that that you let to be now and here,
Depending of only your wish or your hinter.

Love too is not one of the known life’s seasons:
Not old age, nor youth, nor childhood, nor ripeness;  
Love is the fifth time of the whole existence.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, April, 2001