Wednesday, 25 March 2009

vicissitudes

One of my curls resembled the nocturne for violin (and piano)…
And then he smiled and stroked my hair. A few tears fell
For the dead departed. The white lilies of the unfamiliar valley
So green, dreamily tranquil, beautiful. And so unwell.

The awakening has come late this century.
The awakening might not come at all but then this canker
Of hideous depths. When shall we learn to love again? Such
Is a life. Vicissitudes in music for which we hanker.

4 comments:

KittyCat said...

lovely!

Baudolino said...

When shall we learn to love again? Such/Is a life. Vicissitudes in music for which we hanker.

I have heard only you speak of transience like this.

Uttaran said...

NYCE
I like the movement of word

AUROBOROS banerjee said...

as a great man once ran from the world, and kept running, and over time he didn't get anywhere, but the running became easier.
that man was hermes.
fortunately, the dead stay put. they have all the time the world affords, to dream dead dreams.