Читать книгу Collected Love Poems - Brian Patten - Страница 4

Into my mirror has walked

A woman who will not talk

Of love or of its subsidiaries,

But who stands there,

Pleased by her own silence.

The weather has worn into her

All seasons known to me.

In one breast she holds

Evidence of forests,

In the other, of seas.

I will ask her nothing yet

Would ask so much

If she gave a sign—

Her shape is common enough,

Enough shape to love.

But what keeps me here

Is what glows beyond her.

I think at times

A boy’s body

Would be as easy

To read light into,

I think sometimes

My own might do.