moving ahead
there are days I fear I will be gone soon
and others when I fear I will live far too long
I would miss the spring
the cherry blossoms
the young grass
the poppies
the revelation of hidden flesh
after hibernal repose
and yet I feel the drip drip drip
of the Chinese clock
each little drop and that minute disappears
the minutes collect in great pools behind me now
I have fewer drops before me than I did yesterday
and so it goes
already I will never hold his hand for 70 years
I will never know such love as Millie and Helen
who held each other from puberty to the grave
already my hair turns grey
and my chances of loving innocence
and innocence returning to me such love
grow scarce
so soon I must accept scarred love
if even that will come
the springtime brings such longing
Mae arna i hiraeth am beth ffug
the one dream I have dreamt so long
so eludes me
even when like Puck
it comes to taunt me
with deep brown eyes
soft skin
and sweet lips
come Midsummer
something warns me
I will still hold only ghosts and dreams at night
and so it will be that if I have another 70 years
all the hands I will hold from dawn to dawn
will live only in my mind
(En pensant à C de CP qui m'a tant torturé après m'avoir tant aimé un petit moment d'un soir de printemps)
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Comentaris del missatge (Atom)
2 comentaris:
Ouch, man! You gotta stop doing this to me! This stuff is all good. And painful.
Thank you, thank you. Well, this has been quite a week and weekend for me. Got my award for the All Day Sucker of the Month, and not in a good way. Oh well. C'est la guerre!
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