Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
This is pleasurable. Or shall I cross that out and say
it is sad? In one of the tenses I singing
an impossible song of desire that you cannot hear.
La lala la. See? I close my eyes and imagine
the dark hills I would have to cross
to reach you. For I am in love with you and this
is what it is like or what it is like in words.
By Carol Ann Duffy
The First Day
I wish I could remember the first day,
first hour, first moment of your meeting me,
If bright or dim the season it might be
Summer or winter for aught I can say.
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and forsee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it, such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of byegone snow;
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much;
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand- Did one but know!
By Christina G. Rossetti
No comments:
Post a Comment