Poem of the Day. Mascha Kaléko
di
Redazione Italia, May 04, 2016
Redazione Italia, May 04, 2016
 |
The last time
It seems you’ve gone.
Your last word
still faintly clinking in my chamber:
the
brittlest shimmer lingered
some lovely hours. Gone, then, as
before.
Your last word
still faintly clinking in my chamber:
the
brittlest shimmer lingered
some lovely hours. Gone, then, as
before.
Long have I known the
sharp increment
of your faltering redoubt.
Long now, unbidden,
have I sensed
you seeking my window out,
sharp increment
of your faltering redoubt.
Long now, unbidden,
have I sensed
you seeking my window out,
and often hear
unspoken
some muted sinking phrase;
and often the familiar
knocking
at the door. Gone, same as always.
unspoken
some muted sinking phrase;
and often the familiar
knocking
at the door. Gone, same as always.
