Sunset Poem by Alice Baudoin

Lost in the sunset, its pallor hurts me
Like an aged hand which trembles with fever
Beyond your grant and empty eyes I see
How words turn the brook into a river

Like water slowly digs inside the mount
My words are slowly digging in your soul
Until the lifeless spring becomes a fount
And lily flowers bloom into your bowl

Sometimes we have only the forest grace
To go to and to contemplate, to view
Only the splendid lake shore to embrace
And only hope in the horizon blue

Some days the loneliness becomes a friend
A friend that is full of noise and of life
A friend that does not count the time we spend
In perfect harmony or keenest strife

At times we should meekly wait for a sign
To make us understand the past and try
To change ordeal in a shade of sunshine
And answer all the bitter questions “Why? ”

We do pay for all the hesitations
For all the time lost and lack of firmness
We pay for weakness and for temptation
As for the pleasure and the laziness

We pay for the future, for the extreme
We pay for the drugs whichever they are
We pay for all what love and passion mean
For the illusion and the gleaming star

We pay for effusion, for resentment
We pay for failure and for the glory
Also for pride and for the contentment
For all what hurts the soul and memory

We come out of school not learning enough
About happiness and how in the sky
To seek over the wisdom and the path
That opens a smile each day passing by

We learn ephemeral, trivial things
Not how to die, how to be born again
We don't learn to fly, don't learn to get wings
We learn to dream a bit, from now and then

Not how the white memories to be kept
Black ones thrown away as yellow leaves
Not how to be strong after we have wept
And how much love hurts and how much love grieves

We don't learn to be joyful, have power
Always to keep a smile and show a hope
How graciously leave ivory tower
To become confident and truly cope

Once in a while the deep sky is glaring
And asking can I help my dear friend
About serenity he's whispering
About the beauty that will have no end

Why do you hurt so much in the wind blow
Why do you hear words of desolation
Why will you never learn the art to know
Your golden choice of pure inspiration