An Unwritten Poem

/, Blesok no. 77-79/An Unwritten Poem

An Unwritten Poem

There Are Some Ordinary Lives, but All Loves Are Extraordinary
Some Poets Write As They Live
Tonight, My Love, Fire Walks Through the City
An Unwritten Poem
Question Mark
The Invisible, My Love, Overflows with Meaning
We Have Nothing Left, My Love, Except Love
When You Are Not With Me in Tomai
The Window Was Blind
It Happened In Broad Daylight

The window was blind. Beautiful from
the outside of our old home. With a stone
frame and a jutting roof of rock. Filled in
long ago from inside. A trace of its interior
eyelid was hidden behind the old wardrobe
with the clothes and shoes of those long dead.
The window was blind … until not long ago.
As I opened it once more, its wonderful arch
opened itself to an even more beautiful view.
As if someone long blind recovering his sight
saw what he had long forgotten. Blossoming
pear tree. A vineyard. Young vines which are
like soldiers in green uniforms made to stand
in line before a first victory or a final defeat.
Above them the red roof and chimney out of
which mysterious fire-letters rise to the skies.
Signs of life mixing with the secret signs of
clouds which constantly change their shapes.
There children recognize sheep, and old men
wolves … The window was blind … Until not
long ago. Into the room again comes the soft
light of the sun. Turning everything golden.
Our bed and the books on the shelf by its side.
The iron window-crosses too. Our life become
bearable, a pleasurable prison. Yes. Beautiful,
… your golden face still shines. With the light
of unsuspected memory it drives dusk away,
snowing on the pages of my unwrittwn book.

Translated by Ana Jelnikar and Stephen Watts

2018-08-21T17:22:51+00:00 August 1st, 2011|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 77-79|0 Comments