lunes, 9 de septiembre de 2013
No, I don't have any further information
about love
only that it is
a flame's gleam
from a votive glass on a star's grave
it remains alive night and day
in storm rain and snow
without oil without wick
burns on its own
as if love is a miracle
and since our subsistence
dangles from the miracle
we believe blindly in the everlasting
committal flame of love.
Only when you approach with your candle
to take the flame back home
this flame
dies out after a few steps
on its own
without storm rain and snow
in the same way that every miracle dies out
when you detach it from its nourishing idea.
Kikí Dimoula
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non conoscevo questa poesia, molto bella. Anche la foto è molto comunicativa
ResponderEliminarMarco, pictures are poems too.
EliminarThanks for the traces.
Me ha encantado, S.
ResponderEliminarBesos.
Gracias, C.
EliminarBeso
So true!
ResponderEliminarabrazo