It's snowing this afternoon and there are no flowers.
There is only this sound of falling, quiet and remote,
Like the memory of scales descending the white keys
Of a childhood piano--outside the window, palms!
And the heavy head of the cereus, inclining,
Soon to let down its white or yellow-white.
Now, only these poor snow-flowers in a heap,
Like the memory of a white dress cast down . . .
So much has fallen.
&n bsp; &nb sp; & nbsp; And I, who have listened for a step
All afternoon, hear it now, but already falling away,
Already in memory. And the terrible scales descending
On the silent piano; the snow; and the absent flowers abounding.
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Comments about this poem (Absences by Donald Justice )
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- Ndofta per te fundit here, skender iljaz braka
- Rreth zjarrit, skender iljaz braka
- Dhe pse plakemi, skender iljaz braka
- Pavdekesi, skender iljaz braka
- Sfide e perjetshme, skender iljaz braka
- Heshtja e lumit, skender iljaz braka
- Rrëpirave të thepisura të hënës, skender iljaz braka
- Pas teje vrapoja, skender iljaz braka
- Takim miqesh..., skender iljaz braka
- Loti i engjellit dhe loti i djallit, skender iljaz braka