събота, 9 май 2015 г.

The endless departure of the ships















It's almost sung, this blackbird's song,
but the occasion is demanding
to write once more before too long,
to savour every word like brandy.
My letters are what letters were
back when the heavy palms were waving.
When ships were parting with the shore,
my precious words betrayed me.
The miles are my new nemesis,
your absence is my anguish.
A ticking clock is all there is
my torment to be vanquished.

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