Veiling, barely, his dread
Beauty and its blaze,
An angel sets warm bread
and cool milk at my place.
His eyelids make the sign
Of prayer; I lower mine,
Words interleaving vision:
--Calm, calm, be ever calm!
Feel the whole weight a palm
Bears upright in profusion.
......
What happens in heaven?
Will I sit on a cloud?
Is walking or talking
Or jumping allowed?
Will I be on my own
Or with some of my friends?
Does it go on for ever
Or eventually end?
......
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
......
He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark,
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey,
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn,
Voices of play and pleasure after day,
Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him.
About this time Town used to swing so gay
When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees,
And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim,-
......
She follows me about my House of Life
(This happy little ghost of my dead Youth!)
She has no part in Time's relentless strife
She keeps her old simplicity and truth --
And laughs at grim Mortality,
This deathless Child that stays with me --
(This happy little ghost of my dead Youth!)
My House of Life is weather-stained with years --
(O Child in Me, I wonder why you stay.)
......
What do I do?
I feel like everything just keeps going wrong.
Things get worse and worse and never improve.
Every time I see the light, I can never reach it.
What do I do?
Hope is there.
Just at the edge of my fingers.
At the tip of my tongue.
It’s under my nose.
......
It feels like falling inward,
not with sound,
but with silence so heavy
it presses against your ribs.
You wake up
and something is missing.
You try to speak,
but the words won't rise.
They sit,heavy and wet,
......
Ik strekte mijn arm uit
en dacht je aan te raken,
maar het waren mijn gedachten
die me deden geloven
dat je aanwezig was.
Je naam zweefde
ergens tussen herinnering en hoop,
in de stilte van de kamer
die nog steeds jouw adem lijkt te kennen.
......
Kein Fahrplan an der Wand,
nur Spuren von Händen,
die einst suchten.
Der Zug kommt nicht pünktlich,
kommt überhaupt nicht.
Und doch sitzen sie da,
auf Bänken aus Erwartung,
mitt Koffern voller vielleicht.
......
Er was een tijd
dat ik op straat liep
en mijn omgeving sprak
zoals ik dacht,
klonk zoals ik voelde.
Blond haar in de zon,
de zachte klank
van vertrouwde woorden
in een taal die mij
heeft grootgebracht.
......