Groping back to bed after a piss
I part thick curtains, and am startled by
The rapid clouds, the moon’s cleanliness.
 
Four o’clock: wedge-shadowed gardens lie
Under a cavernous, a wind-picked sky.
There’s something laughable about this,
 
The way the moon dashes through clouds that blow
Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart
(Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below)
 
High and preposterous and separate—
Lozenge of love! Medallion of art!
O wolves of memory! Immensements! No,
 
One shivers slightly, looking up there.
The hardness and the brightness and the plain
Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare
 
Is a reminder of the strength and pain
Of being young; that it can’t come again,
But is for others undiminished somewhere.

  • 0
  • 1
  •  
  •  
S'identifier Commentaires...

Préféré par...

Y. J. Hall
Email

Autres oeuvres par Philip Larkin...

Quelques poètes qui suivent Philip Larkin...

Teddy Robson C. Knappe Velimir Makaveev saba saba Jonathan De Oliveira Alex G