This is just to say that
This is not for you.
That each morning,
As the perfume settles
On my skin,
And as the tiny drops gather
On my neck,
And hides in the folds of worn fabrics -
That they may tease and taunt...
The maddening fragrances that stayed
When I left
Were not for you.
That as my fingers lose
Themselves
In my hair,
Searching for lost thoughts,
The after-thoughts that follow
Are not about you.
And as the kohl
Fills the lines,
So that they may not be lost
In the rest of the death of lacking;
Speaking for warm graves
That would sigh and weep and regret -
What is spoken or not
Is not for you.
That I must stop writing now
Because the words ring false
And sound untrue
Is because
The words...
Are not for you.
I would not be ashamed to say it now
But all that is left to say is that
This love-song
Is not for you.
Because the words ring false And sound untrue ................................... beautifully expressed... lost while reading....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This love-song Is not for you... From someone knows how to hide and reveal it with style! Someone who knows the border between the personal and the poetic. The world must appreciate you, right now, right there!