• Twenty-three mimosa blooms

     

     

     

     

    Life is perhaps a silent waltz

    Of a sky-blue skirt in the wind

    Señorita spinning around

    On the flat mud roof, feet unshod

     

    Life is perhaps the last twinkles

    Fading away in the glass eyes

    Of the sad doll cuddled to death

    And the young girl who wept rivers

     

    In the dark of the moonless night

    Cinderella shoe left behind

    Beneath the old pomegranate tree

    Awaiting the runaway prince

     

    In the dark of the moonless night

    The sad bluebell singing the blues

    Sky-blue dress waving in the wind

    Turning opal, then ebony

     

    Agony in the cold Northwind

    Bluebell stood there, lofty and proud

    Just a simple nod of the head

    And quiet tinklings of the heart

     

    Behold! Hidden lake in the eyes

    Tears that no one ever perceived

    Mourning the lacrima mortis 

    Shed from the blue eyes of a doll

     

    Behold! Sunlit bridal bouquet

    With twenty-three mimosa blooms

    On the waves, running with the wind

    To seashores far beyond the sphere

     

    Life is perhaps this silhouette

    Gently going down on its knees

    And the hands, clement and soothing

    Reaching out and washing your feet

     

     

    Purana

    23/01/2019

     

    « L’homme qui attend

  • Commentaires

    Aucun commentaire pour le moment

    Suivre le flux RSS des commentaires

    Vous devez être connecté pour commenter