“How is it over there? How lonely is it? Is it still glowing red at sunset? Are the birds still singing on the way to the forest? Can you receive the letter I dared not send? Can I convey... the confession I dared not make? Will time pass and roses fade? Now it’s time to say goodbye, like the wind that lingers and then goes, just like shadows. To promises that never came, to the love sealed till the end. To the grass kissing my weary ankles, and to the tiny footsteps following me. It’s time to say goodbye. Now as darkness falls, will a candle be lit again? Here I pray... nobody shall cry... and for you to know... how deeply I loved you. The long wait in the middle of a hot summer day. An old path resembling my father’s face. Even the lonesome wild flower shyly turning away. How deeply I loved. How my heart fluttered at hearing your faint song. I bless you. Before crossing the black river with my soul’s last breath. I am beginning to dream... a bright sunny morning... again I awake, blinded by the light... and meet you... standing by me.”segunda-feira, 14 de março de 2011
Poetry...
“How is it over there? How lonely is it? Is it still glowing red at sunset? Are the birds still singing on the way to the forest? Can you receive the letter I dared not send? Can I convey... the confession I dared not make? Will time pass and roses fade? Now it’s time to say goodbye, like the wind that lingers and then goes, just like shadows. To promises that never came, to the love sealed till the end. To the grass kissing my weary ankles, and to the tiny footsteps following me. It’s time to say goodbye. Now as darkness falls, will a candle be lit again? Here I pray... nobody shall cry... and for you to know... how deeply I loved you. The long wait in the middle of a hot summer day. An old path resembling my father’s face. Even the lonesome wild flower shyly turning away. How deeply I loved. How my heart fluttered at hearing your faint song. I bless you. Before crossing the black river with my soul’s last breath. I am beginning to dream... a bright sunny morning... again I awake, blinded by the light... and meet you... standing by me.”
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2 comentários:
Over here is less lonely now I've read you.
You shouldn't feel lonesome dear, the underlining meaning of this poem refers to the afterlife, it shouts out loud into an empty room awaiting for the echo of a residual self, something forgotten inside us, faded memories of a once full blown flower, although I perceive beauty in these words, I wouldn't dare to write my own... not now.
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