Four Poems<\/p>\n
I think it will be winter when he comes.
\nFrom the unbearable whiteness of the road
\na dot will emerge, so black that eyes will blur,
\nand it will be approaching for a long, long time,
\nmaking his absence commensurate with his coming,
\nand for a long, long time it will remain a dot.
\nA speck of dust? A burning in the eye? And snow,
\nthere will be nothing else but snow,
\nand for a long, long while there will be nothing,
\nand he will pull away the snowy curtain,
\nhe will acquire size and three dimensions,
\nhe will keep coming closer, closer . . .
\nThis is the limit, he cannot get closer. But he keeps approaching,
\nnow too vast to measure . . .<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u201d<\/p>\n
If there is something to desire,
\nthere will be something to regret.
\nIf there is something to regret,
\nthere will be something to recall.
\nIf there is something to recall,
\nthere was nothing to regret.
\nIf there was nothing to regret,
\nthere was nothing to desire.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u201d<\/p>\n
Let us touch each other
\nwhile we still have hands,
\npalms, forearms, elbows . . .
\nLet us love each other for misery,
\ntorture each other, torment,
\ndisfigure, maim,
\nto remember better,
\nto part with less pain.<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u201d\u00e2\u20ac\u201d<\/p>\n
We are rich: we have nothing to lose.
\nWe are old: we have nowhere to rush.
\nWe shall fluff the pillows of the past,
\npoke the embers of the days to come,
\ntalk about what means the most,
\nas the indolent daylight fades.<\/p>\n
Vera Pavlova<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Four Poems I think it will be winter when he comes. From the unbearable whiteness of the road a dot will emerge, so black that eyes will blur, and it will be approaching for a long, long time, making his … Continue reading