Читать книгу Дикий ирис. Аверн. Ночь, всеохватная ночь - Луиза Глик - Страница 93

Love of my life, you

are lost and I am

young again.

A few years pass.

The air fills

with girlish music;

in the front yard

the apple tree is

studded with blossoms.

I try to win you back,

that is the point

of the writing.

But you are gone forever,

as in Russian novels, saying

a few words I don’t remember —

How lush the world is,

how full of things that don’t belong to me —

I watch the blossoms shatter,

no longer pink,

but old, old, a yellowish white —

the petals seem

to float on the bright grass,

fluttering slightly.

What a nothing you were,

to be changed so quickly

into an image, an odor —

you are everywhere, source

of wisdom and anguish.