by Franz Wright
There is a heartbreaking beauty
about my crummy street
tonight, at 2 o’clock
in the first snow: I stand looking out
at this window, I think
how everything seen
is something seen for the last time.
At last I turn away,
I give up. I am tired,
I can’t mourn anymore
the loss of what I never asked for
and never understood.
_______________
In the middle of the latest sweltering heatwave in the UK I caught myself thinking of snow...
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário