Poem to Luminous Brother

 
 
     To birds and to poets the Lord all their sustenance gives:
     I dont reap or sow, but for a second year I exist.
     And for kind song-poems the people whore also kind
     Will forgive your errors and sins, too, if any they find.
     Who needs the art now? Who needs it - I do not know,
     But to me its air, and I keep singing so.
     And radiant someone - not Russian, Estonian - stranger -
     An angel of God? Follows me and protects me from danger.
     In art he believes, and to me he is brimming with love:
     "Be yourself, poet: Sing all your songs, stay alive!"
     And like a poor bird, poet is glad of alms in his plight...
     O luminous brother, I sing you with song of delight!
 
 
 © Copyright Igor Severyanin