Portrait

I'm drawing a portrait on old paper leaf
Unknown regular features…
He may be a brave and strong fighter, which lived
Then died and revived in my picture.

It may be a quiet monk from ancientry,
Which got lost behind the centuries…
He might have the same light in his strict eyes
His wisdom is kept by the river of times…

And what if such fighter did pass through this world
Through struggles and gladness, through warmth and through cold
It would be a miracle… or would be not?

And what if there was no legend, no tale
The portrait is just a child of my thought
It's only the ink bends designed to naught
And kept within limits of paper.

And what if the destiny's way is like this
His soul hasn't yet flown down
The one you can see on the old paper leaf
Is never born, known to no one?