
静か
一人なので、
私の心は静かです。
冬の静かな深夜に
思い出や雪が
いつもやって来ます。
Quiet
Being alone,
my heart remains calm.
In winter, a deep silent night,
memories and snow
always seem to come.
静か
一人なので、
私の心は静かです。
冬の静かな深夜に
思い出や雪が
いつもやって来ます。
Quiet
Being alone,
my heart remains calm.
In winter, a deep silent night,
memories and snow
always seem to come.
I tried to translate the previously posted poem into Italian. 😅 Perhaps it makes no sense. I am sorry. 😓
(Ho provato a tradurre la mia poesia. 😅 Forse non ha senso. Mi dispiace.)😓
Senza Titolo
Ti desidero.
Non parliamo di piacere o d’amare
come ingenui amanti.
Desidero il tuo aspetto fisico
che posso guardare, con gli occhi
E, ogni giorno, lo tocco con la mente.
Non mi interessano
la tua posizione ed il tuo prestigio.
Il mio desiderio è, certamente,
una cosa volgare.
Il mio desiderio non ha il tempo
per le sottigliezze di un appuntamento romantico.
Non ci sono nè vino, e nè lume di candela.
No. Ti desidero.
E questo è tutto.
Stamattina, nella tranquillità dell’alba,
mi sono svegliata.
Non potevo più ascoltare
la tua voce,
sentivo solo le gocce di pioggia
sulla finestra
ed il suono del mio respiro.
Le mie mani toccavano
lo spazio vuoto accanto a me.
Mi sono sentita l’euforia
di essere libera…
di essere senza di te…
Si trova la pace nel silenzio
del cuore.
Domani e dopodomani,
il mio mondo è ancora mio
di creare come desidero.
Comunque
Stamattina ti ricordavo.
——
This morning, in the quiet of dawn, I awoke. I could no longer hear your voice. I listened only to the raindrops against my window and the sound of my breathing.
My hands touched the empty space next to me. And I felt the euphoria of being free and being without you.
One finds peace in the heart’s silence. Tomorrow and the day after, my world is mine to create as I desire.
However, this morning I remembered you.
Forward.
Isn’t that the way we should go?
Nostalgia.
Isn’t that what we need to let go?
We cannot live in what has yet to be and can no longer stay in what has already been.
I am digging in yet resolving to keep moving…
forward.
I am confronting and honouring my scars.
Nostalgia,
when did it become so unpalatable?
– D
Photograph by Diedré M Blake, 2018
Cicadas call now,
10,000 steps to nowhere,
“Will I find myself?”
-db
Photograph by M. Beddingfield, 2018 (edited by D. Blake)
I stop. This moment
dances on petals–my heart
unfrozen freezes.
-db
Blossoms, Diedré M. Blake
Let me hold you now
as sakura blossoms fall,
welcoming spring.
-db.
Is this what we do?
Try to remember moments
when mortality seemed mythical,
when walking gave way to dancing,
when story, ours, lacked history, and
when…, and when…, and when…
And then realize the futility of the process.
-db
I pour a cup of tea, sip it, delighting in its aroma.
I pack my bag for work, glance at news headlines on my phone, and contemplate dinner.
I prepare lesson plans and life plans, all the while wondering if any of it matters.
I place my keys on a magnetic hook, glance through a new book, and consider leftovers.
Life has become a news stream, a ticker tape parade of banal bits and sordid pieces, that fails to bore or shock anymore: a birthing of and dying in indifference.
I pick up my pillow, hold it close, finding comfort in nostalgia.
-db
Until Next Time,
D.
The door
Doesn’t everything begin a long time ago?
Someone somewhere opened a door.
Someone somewhere locked it.
Someone somewhere knocked loudly,
then softly,
and then no more.
-db
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