Beneath this bridge here runs the river Seine
and our love with it. I should remember
that pleasure sometimes follows pain...
Night falls, clocks chime, days pass -
and I am still. Hand in hand and face to face
we stood while under the arch our arms made
flowed the faërie ooze of everlastingness.
Love (whatever that is) drifts away
like oil on water.
Through drag of life and lunar
pull of hope, days ebb into weeks,
and neither moments
nor loves past ever can return.
Clocks chime and nights decay.
[click HERE to read the original poem and a translation]
No comments:
Post a Comment