Jij bent een man om gekust te worden, steeds weer in mijn gedachten.
You are a man to be kissed, over and over in my thoughts.
Zoals het gezang in het zachte, een blijk is van de zachte aard van diens ziel.
Like the singing in the quiet thoughts, is proof of a gentle soul.
Soms is een taal die niet van jou is, het meest dierbare en meest gekoesterde, dat men er een teken in kan zien, een leven te beleven op afstanden verder dan tijd zelf.*
Sometimes a language that doesn’t belong to you is the most dear and most cherished, that one can take sign, to experience life in distances beyond time itself.
Someone who takes love on the inside, and is pulled
from pleasure, only to distil it in oneself. It is given that
the humour that one feels in only the thoughts, similar
to ones being, of hope, and giving of time,
and life, how can you be so careless?
To caress that face of time itself, and it takes away
from the love, and maybe one shapes these figures to see
how the plays and scene of life has, it escapes the trained
head and goes out to endless spaces.
These kisses are not meant to extract fairness and
lay a waste. Only to instil on you my vision and a way
to show gratitude to gentleness emanating from smiles, from
painted lips, pitch dark eyes and your sun crinkled skin.
Whether you’re granted a vision of this vocabulary
or are taken from its meanings. To show you my
internal love, which is beyond all material planes, and pervades
this desire to teach on a lesson learned.
© 2009
Ode to a friend in whose eyes I saw his closeness to God.
