#montare
Taking wings of paper, gone flying
to where it must not,
naive,
whetted by fancy, that (neither)
sensing, seeing, nor knowing
the limits -
lost, how silly this heart!
Crosses castles
and scales heights, yet,
feels like theft, this love:
Ifs and buts, and again and again
tossing about like a ball,
Applying of dust, like
sandalwood on the forehead;
Whetted by fancy, neither
sensing, seeing, nor knowing
the limits,
Lost, how silly this heart!
*Soars high, the soul-bird,
yearning, leaping out of this frame -
oh a big flame, this love!*.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 5:56 AM UTC
* Starting to erase the complaints,
spotless this morning, spotless this morning,
that is thawing the snow: surely,
there is fire somewhere, fire somewhere! *
Resolved not to fly, now
even the birds have learned fidelity,
and taking darkness in her arms,
light has set up home
repaying what was stolen!
Starting to erase the complaints,
spotless this morning, spotless this morning,
that is thawing the snow: surely,
there is fire somewhere, fire somewhere!
You are victory, and I, loss:
and the string that joins them both,
you are victory, and I, loss!
Reminding, then making one count mistakes,
whenever the stars sing,
setting thieves in charge,
it is a matter of fate, it is a matter of fate!
This is the story of the heart,
this is letting go, letting go!
Starting to erase the complaints...
Resolved not to fly, now
even the birds have learned fidelity,
and taking darkness in her arms,
light has set up home
repaying what was stolen!
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 2:35 PM UTC