Los más leídos ▸
Dave Bonta
day of new vows
all the rough hill sang
Your face from my face slips,
Lover of my lips.
Holder of my heart,
For all our close companionships,
We are apart.
Apart, apart, we are apart.
Crying beauty leaves me dumb,
Your fire, cold and still.
I watch the hours of morning come
And always will,
With this dull agony in my heart —
We are apart.
Strong, solemn, stupid-kind;
Parting, we leave behind
Silence, where our foot-steps sound
Dead on the hollow ground.
Although so many years.
Still the vows we made each other
Remain tied to the great trunk
Of the seven separate trees
In the courtyard of the Crimson Temple
At Nara.