The dance of the Gypsies.


The dance of the Gypsies.

A Poem by Coyote Poetry


Love, song and dance, blood and the road.


                              The dance of the Gypsies

I was in downtown Cologne, Germany in 1979.
Watching dark eyes beautiful women dancing and singing on the sidewalk
with a old man playing a violin.
They danced for the coin and if you gave them a gift.
They would give you a wink and a smile.

Thy sang an ancient sweet song of the old way of life.
Flipping their silks dresses tempting the young man heart.
Their words tattoos words to my thoughts.
“Love may be tender, may be painful my lover.
The sweet words of our lover’s words leave us wanting more.
The blood will boil with passion and desire,
making us want some more.
A Gypsy love is not forever.
The traveling soul will no peace when the road is more tempting than love.”

The three girls bowed. Announced they are from Romania and appreciate the generous
donations. They whispered a prayer.
“Love, song, blood and the road is the curse and the blessing of the Gypsy heart.”

I sat in the nearby park with the ancient Gypsy.
He accepted my friendship because I had Black Velvet whiskey and good German red wine.
I requested a story. He slapped my back and laughed at my innocents.
He told me. “My new friend. Nothing is free. We pay for love in many ways, we must dance and sing to
know peace and happiness. Sometime we pay with our blood. The traveling man owed
no-one nothing. You are my new friend. Let’s open the whiskey and see where the story goes.”

He opened up the black velvet and take a long sip. He passed the bottle to me.
A pretty dark eyes girl sat close to me. She watched my eyes and asked.
“Do I like to dance and sing by the light of the Summer moon? Am I afraid of the long night?
She brought me to her. Held me close and we danced to the silence of the night.
She whispered to me. “Love may be tender, maybe painful my lover? The sweet words of your lover’s
words leave us wanting more. The blood will boil with passion and desire making us want more. The traveling
man never know peace or home.”

The Gypsy girl take me to her Grandfather. He laughed and stood up.
Raised the Black Velvet to the moon. He yelled in a cheerful voice.
“Thank you for another day and night to be alive, death is still far away.
Let’s enjoy love, the dance and the song. Hope no-one need to bleed tonight.
A wise traveling spirit leave only memories of beauty and laughter.


© 2013 Coyote Poetry