I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.


Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

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To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

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What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

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That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

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I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Ĺove is so short and oblivion so long.

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

http://dl10.glitter-graphics.net/pub...ou0p0w0kok.png

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.