Читать книгу Cardos y lluvia - Kate Clanchy - Страница 17

I think about you

in as many ways as rain comes.

(I am growing, as I get older,

to hate metaphors – their exactness

and their inadequacy.)

Sometimes these thoughts are

a moistness, hardly falling, than which

nothing is more gentle:

sometimes, a rattling shower, a

bustling Spring-cleaning of the mind:

sometimes, a drowning downpour.

I am growing, as I get older,

to hate metaphor,

to love gentleness,

to fear downpours.