excerpt from - l' étrangère
You know nothing of your past. You have dreamed it,
Yes most assuredly dreamed it.
I see your face in the rain's gray brilliance.
November shrouds the landscape and my life.
And your life I know nothing of, nor do I wish to.
Your eyes murmur of remote cities, hazy -
I shall never see them
Or hear their names in your own voice.
November comes over me, and across the plain.
I watch you, unrecognized, drift this side of formerly...
From your eyes I salvage what is real in dreams,
Dreamed, all of them, in the gone time
And visions blossoming in vivid sun.
One might say the eternal comes full circle
In this twilight poisoned with rain.
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1 comment:
This is beautiful, particularly the beginning and the end. And nevertheles I ecape this perpective of things. I think I should accept that I am growing old, and look at things in this perspective. Somehow I refuse to do so. But when I read the world as seen from a sort of past perspective I do recognise some familiar shadows.
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