duminică, 26 ianuarie 2020
This is dedicated to a friend whom I love and who will always remain dear to me, no matter what.
What my heart would feel remains a mystery
or what my ears may hear at dawn...
The whistling of a locomotive, as it leaves the station,
travels towards us and once again
we tremble, smitten by love.
My dog has died. Who will be guarding my home?
This train I missed. When will a next one come?
And what if love is scattered - how are we to piece it back together?
We are such wells, brimming with water,
only by song.
It’s cool and quiet
as on a peaceful sea.
Darkness is hanging out its purple cloak
on poplars’ ends.
With my scorched soles
I feel the rocks, the grass
barely showing and I head out –
no roundabouts and no illusions –
towards the butterfly sunset
in my childhood.
I finally wiped off my nails.
I had them done with branches, on forest green.
You did not get to see them and it makes me think
of what you are going to wear today:
your brother’s tee-shirt or the shirt I gave you?
Every day seems lost to us…
We build walls for ourselves, by heaping up fluttering wings,
to keep out the beasts and the light.