Of birds in rain and other sad fishes
Waves and purple moons dash by the window-pane
If only you knew, if only…..
What the rain means to the child
who sleeps with a serpent all coiled up
around his waist……
And those twenty one sad centuries
that have passed since the death of Jesus –
Yearning for that very same December snow
like white horses and black trains standing
silently in the mist…..
If only…….
But I know this
And I won’t lose you in the dry maze
of crossword puzzles and the snakes
and the ladders awaiting the last note of
all your symphonies that the tides have washed
away to fade beyond the hills after
a thousand and one echoes – each telling
the story of one haunted night of Arabia
where the eyelashes of Sheherzade quiver
in the whispering voices of the spirits of the desert….
She weaves a story in silence….. Till that fateful
one thousand and first night when the
bells and the mirages shall drown in their
own emptiness….
But the King never moves before the rooks
And Antonius Block shall not go to Valhalla
because he was a Christian….
(Faith matters, I guess)
But those Scandinavian castles – they stand tall
in the snow and fight the times, with their
heads held high…..
And they’ve been fighting for thousands
of years…. For history knows no faith….
And the times are faithless too……
If only you knew
If only you knew
How much I love you
And how much I don’t love you
And how much I love you
But I won’t let you know all these….
Because sad stories make the world
fall apart….
Because sadness is a poison that inebriates
our whispers……
And because time is cruel and unforgiving…..
Hence, just a blank page and nothing more
Make a paper boat and let it float away
in the brook that passes by my window ;
That’s all I want from you –
Faith, hope and love –
everything, nothing…….
4 comments:
this poem flows beautifully, tireless, like a river in bright moonlight-images you associate with joy yet which somehow hides pain in a corner of its heart.
I am enjoying your words. How you write.How you make the reader (this reader)think.
"who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish."
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