The Lake of Attabad

The burnt wheel of an old 2CV
The glow of the still lake of Attabad
The scent of frost flowers,
The water trembles under the bass
An accordion inflates the air
Above the mountains
An eagle lifts the night curtain;
The highlands fade into the mist
Do you see the steam in the open sea?
Is it a tumult, is it a cloud?
My rings glitter
Like the sun under the snow
And laughing voices carry me along
Roses shade the canvases
Of the wrought iron marquee
I threw the key of my car
In the turquoise waters of Attabad
And I danced in the frost
The cotton of my breath
Has rolled down the dense sky
It foams above the frost
A clown threw a brick
And the ice cracked
In a red clamor

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