when you are gone
you are gone for good
you are gone and i do nothing about it
because when you are gone you are simply gone and i do nothing
to make it more sophisticated or
complicate such a very simple matter as a departure
it takes only a second when the jet plane takes off
and all its sound is gone
its trace of smoke in the sky simply dissolves in that blue canvass
soon it is empty and soon blackbirds dot its hues of white and blue
what is there to make about those hands that forget about waving?
those eyes that look so happy watching the fields flashing away from the window of the bus?
or an array of thin sheets of clouds from the window of the plane?
where you are gone
you are gone and that is precisely
for the best in us
you go your way and i stay and soon too i must go my own odd way too
finding another one who shall not speak and act like you
(so i can easily forget)
when you are gone
i shall still be good, pursuing once again this search for
another chapter of suspense and happiness
in my own little book of incoming days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem