From the lookout of your attic
you view sleepy autumnal afternoons.
Sky and clouds have soft orange tints.
Gracefully, you embroider with golden threads
on silk cushions.
Farewell to the forgotten doorway,
the sombre faraway lanes.
A mirror reflects the same scene
in the interior of your chamber.
Nostalgia, presentiments of a discordant world
Quicken your heart.
Companion of my sadest hours,
you’re no longer there.
Your tombstone was bare
beneath stark pine trees
Abandoned in the common ossuary
nobody remembers you.
You closed the door for the last time
And I cannot visit you.
Comments
Dear Teddy, you're always so
Dear Teddy, you're always so appreciative, thanks so much. I had trouble putting this poem together because I translated it from the Spanish version I had filed away. I suddenly remembered I had it published long ago and thought it would do for the contest.
Anyway, it's always heartenning when you visit, thanks for that. We had a power outage and it's gotten late. I'll return, for now all the best, Gracy
I like this...
A sad but beautiful thing of memory.
I would use the words [you are] rather than [you're] no longer there
Makes it feel smoother to me.
Your tombstone [is] bare?
All-in-all, a golden afternoon of reminiscence. Very nice! ~ Geez.
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Hi Geez, thanks for
Hi Geez, thanks for commenting, it's always a pleasure when you visit. Good idea, I'll fix that, as you suggest. I'm glad you like it; as I said above, I translated from the Spanish version that was published long ago in a leading Buenos Aires newspaper. They don't have a poetry section any longer. With a longish power outage, it's gotten late. Will pop back soon.
All the best, Gracy
Why, thank you, Alan. What a
Why, thank you, Alan. What a compliment. I'm glad it meets the parameters.
It's always a pleasure when you visit, Gracy