New York - Vienna

Queen city on the Danube,
Place of my perished youthful dreams,
For more years than I care to remember
Has my imagination painted vivid pictures
Of my old home, quietly longed for,
Upstream, like the salmon,
Have I returned to you,
To find my illusions shattered,
To see an old, empty city,
Lacking vitality and life,
Sans color, meaningless, superficial,
Living only in past glory,
And after I returned home,
In the quiet of my garden,
Fragrant with flowers,
Listening to the delicious sounds
Of the cicadas,
After spending my day
In that magnificent Athens
Of our time - New York,
I stealthily looked around,
So that no one should see me,
And I touched the precious ground
With burning, grateful lips.

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2006 Alfred Charasz