I pull the shades
To block out the Sun
And shun its screaming
Infidelities and auguries.
I feel naked
Behind the opaque sheets.
The afternoon melancholy
Made no noise
As the clocks did most of
The stealing.
In each stolen minute:
A body falls.
A drunkard gets killed
In a barbrawl or
Left lifeless in an alley
With a rusting dagger
In his chest.
A news of birth happens,
A couple making love,
Or destroying love - whichever.
A body is being buried
Underneath the thresholds
Of the Earth.
What infamy,
Time holds.
I am here to tell you
That past these stolen minutes,
A garden of untouched time
Awaits -
Only, we are bound
To ride this carousel
Once more.
The difference is
I stayed too long
Behind the sheets,
Behind the curtains -
Dull and dead
And watched the scenes
As time stole everything
From everybody.
And afterwards,
I’d have everything to give,
And they’d run
After me -
That not even time
Can touch me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem