untitled by alissa

Ξ March 14th, 2007 | → 0 Comments | ∇ Arts, Photography |

    We have lost even this twilight.
    No one saw us this evening hand in hand
    while the blue night dropped on the world.

    I have seen from my window
    the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

    Sometimes a piece of sun
    burned like a coin in my hand.

    I remembered you with my soul clenched
    in that sadness of mine that you know.

    Where were you then?
    Who else was there?
    Saying what?
    Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
    when I am sad and feel you are far away?

    The book fell that always closed at twilight
    and my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

    Always, always you recede through the evenings
    toward the twilight erasing statues.

    -- Pablo Neruda


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