I do not have more than I've wrote in me
With purple ink and from my soul a gift
Of golden words and gentle deeds will be
Enough today for losses that you grieved.
Don't beg for more, 'cause I'm renouncing all
And I am asking nothing in return;
All mighty pride and glory like a thrall
And all the comfort and the wit I've earn.
But in the end, if love will flourish white
The mornings of old times
are dead,
the dream gets on the tram
along with the evening
and it's over.
A sadness on stilts
walks through the town...
I hear it arriving at the corner
grinning to me.
Her black glove is flying across downtown.
“A crow!” they shouted. “A crow is attacking Eiffel Tour!”
...cry of a rooster/the goat is smiling...
She knows/He knows.
“Purple and white, of course!”
A wedding for a happy end.
A picture for a wedding.
The glove has no wing.
Just a small hole through
thick and thin.
Kept especially for the sixth finger.
Il s'approche trop il s'éloigne trop.
Je regarde les mots sur ses lèvres. Sa bouche
remue lentement. Plus lentement. On n'entend
rien. On voit son contour changer comme dans
un miroir d'eau. Qui tremble. Sa bouche remue.
Il avance dans la voix. Ce sont des paroles qui
s'ouvrent sur ses lèvres. Gouffre. Le cercle pâle
se ferme encore.
Ses mots se font toujours plus rares, ils ne
love is brutal with us
these days
and you know
when you feel my thoughts
hunting yours
in the blue white of the morning
you’re right
we are not
what we fear the most
not even those unhappy dolls
of the 21st century
running in meaningless circles
but rather what we miss
when we use reasonable absurdities
to justify and apease
the horrific need
for each other
when you feel my thoughts
hurting yours
in the red dark of the dusk
and you glow in
those nights
Comentarii aleatorii