If your eyes were not the color of the moon,
of a day full [here, interrupted by the baby waking - continued about 26
hours later ]
of a day full of clay, and work, and fire,
if even held-in you did not move in agile grace like the air,
if you were not an amber week,
not the yellow moment
when autumn climbs up through the vines;
if you were not that bread the fragrant moon
kneads, sprinkling its flour across the sky,
oh, my dearest, I could not love you so!
But when I hold you I hold everything that is -
sand, time, the tree of the rain,
everything is alive so that I can be alive:
without moving I can see it all:
in your life I see everything that lives.
everything is alive so that I can be alive: without moving I can see it all: in your life I see everything that lives. I die in the beauty of it... Gorgeous simplicity!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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Add a comment.Splendid comparison.A salute to you from a little girl...