Unknown Sonata
If I keep on looking at the moon, between the pines;
Leaves of pine cut in halves the mystic light of it,
Sometimes my whole being trembles at this,
I worry because the ancient tree gives me red signals of separation.
Sometimes I think I am incapable of love,
I was never able to hold delicate things in my wretched hands,
leaves, smoke, promises, joys, yellow flowers and your hair my love;
I am incompetent in the life of love, a poor player in the race of love.
Do not forsake me my love, my trophy;
sometimes glance at me as if I am your mirror,
The only difference is that this mirror will shatter in a thousand pieces,
when you open your hair…
This Mirror is incapable of reflecting your beauty,
Accept this miserable mirror,
It is incapable because it cannot forget,
it cannot withstand you without turning to pieces.
poem by Sarang Mangi
Added by Poetry Lover
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