A Port Of Refuge Agleam With The Aura Of Love

There are so many dear, yet sad people patiently waiting for love, 
Like a woman mourning her sailor.
There are so many hands caressing verses of love poems, 
Like an old missionary caressing lines of the scripture.
There are so many salty and mute tears, 
And so much loneliness springing forth from tears, 
And so many brotherly solitudes, 
But solitudes, still.

Though I’m growing old and grey with every step I take
On the path of dreams, 
I still follow the call of love.
You can find me in your dreams, 
Because I can find you in mine, 
And the gates of love are always open, 
As are the gates of faith.

I heard the nightingale sing, 
And I heard her heart sing, 
I saw a falling star
In those yearning eyes
That watched me timidly, 
Calling me to her embrace
Like the face of an angel agleam
With the aura of the Lord’s mercy.
I am no longer able to think –
Or sing a song –
All I can do is blindly follow her heart’s song.

Might this be love, finally knocking on the door of my lonely heart? 

Without flowers, 
There are no songs of the beloved, 
And her soft and fragile hand is picking a flower, 
Is she picking a flower for me? 
A flower sprouting from a lonely tear? 

Lit with the reflection of a paradise dawn, 
Her pale face glitters behind the opaque veil of yearing, 
In the secrecy of her yearning
My yearning is hidden, too; 

Oh, yearning! … You sail of life, driven by the icy winds of solitude, 
You know that love voices itself in a language
Comprehensible to all people around the world.

Life, here comes your tired captain, 
Your tired captain is arriving in the port of refuge; 
Where love awaits dressed as a pauper and a rich man, 
Where love shines in her mild graceful eyes
Like a lighthouse agleam with the aura of the Lord’s mercy.

by Walter William Safar