The Twilight Turns Poem by James Joyce
The Twilight Turns
The twilight turns from amethyst
To deep and deeper blue,
The lamp fills with a pale green glow
The trees of the avenue.
The old piano plays an air,
Sedate and slow and gay;
She bends upon the yellow keys,
Her head inclines this way.
Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands
That wander as they list -- -
The twilight turns to darker blue
With lights of amethyst.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 7:22:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
One of my favorite poems of all time. It captures the romance and encahntment of the first meeting of a new love. I like the way she is so coincidently introduced...and then the impressions of the beginning adventure interrupted by night passing again signals to me a romantic pleasure that can be had with memory and time. I like to read this poem back to back with 'I hear and Army...' (which is about the despair at the end of love)