You Know, I Think More and More Often
You know, I think more and more often
that I should go back.
Maybe I’ll meet you. And happiness?
Happiness is being sad together.
So I look through the moonlit window
Nothing. A breeze stirs somewhere.
Alone among the leaves - the moon.
Like a golden wheel it rolls
above the windblown leaves.
Such moons, only paler,
shone over the Wisla.
Even the Big Dipper on its course
stops in a tree at midnight,
just like at home. But why here?
Truly, I don’t know.
What’s here? Longing and sleepless nights,
unknown streets and somebody’s verse.
I live here as a nobody:
a Displaced Person.
I think of you. I know I must leave.
Perhaps we can return to our past,
but I know neither what youth will be like
nor where you are.
But I’m yours or no one’s
listen, read this poem
Thank you, properlylost
- dangerousmachines likes this
- bruj likes this
- heroin-e reblogged this from rabbit-light
- radioactivestares likes this
- fleck likes this
- oldworldheart likes this
- fluttering-slips likes this
- f-yeahflorilegia likes this
- foxandthefawn likes this
- growing-orbits likes this
- pulsatingcreature likes this
- gypsytits reblogged this from rabbit-light
- havesomehope7 likes this
- drywaterelegance likes this
- valuska likes this
- rabbit-light posted this