Singing Shells

No more shall I seek my image in your eyes

Nor glide through your imagination in swallow’s flight

Or trace your thoughts into distant dunes

Or delve into the mysteries of your waxed skin.

Never to find repose under the cypresses of your land

I will content myself in dreaming at the shore

Meting  out my life in ocean waves.

And if ever a man wants a glimpse at my soul

Let him remove his shoes and walk upon the sand

And listen to the sound of singing shells.

                                                                                                                                                                                 Antonia Baranov