NOCTURNE

 

The light darkens the windows

always in this world they give birth

shouts, sighs, singings, furies amble

along the weasand, word born

of nowhere giving countenance

to those unseen, a sort of created

unknown and giving cecity to those

armour-plated against the poesy

and music and these ones ascending

leisurely coming with the sombre

head convince us that the poesy

and the music are some trifles

some illogical “stupid things”

without you being able to find out

their sense as at the flights of sparks

they might be right because many

share the same view and yet only

the Silence moves you closer to God –

the words are objects but to me these

are a hearse of my secluded slumber

shepherd’s hut of my foolishness

a green and a blue flood her.