The Cost of Eternal Forgetting
The Cost of Eternal Forgetting
It seems between us beats a silver bell lined with blue silk,
there exists a separation from our very selves, with fate in this silence of crystal,
what we dream in the long nights seems a memory that drifts ever farther,
the days flow into transparent months, then years, perish like smoke in the wind.
What am I to understand from this long waiting, that everything scattered into forgetting?
Sometimes I feel ancient wolves tearing my dreams like a faded canvas,
I advance through narrow paths, through a nameless and boundless slum,
devoid of meaning without you, you, the one heralded since childhood by elders.
We haven't seen each other for many whole months, but I love you with despair and melancholy,
a solitary descender into the cellar of memory with a trembling candle in hand,
like a sailor at the wedding table, covered with seashells and marine algae,
from a sunken ship, a mystery of the ocean deep and silent.
Youth and life perish slowly for us, you're silent far away, waiting becomes torment,
it becomes itself a form of prolonged existence without hope of an ending.
Look into the eyes of the people of the aged city, who are silent, for they carry the weight of sorrow,
believe them at least, who gaze into the dry earth and understand why
the roosters of the metropolis no longer herald the morning in any sunrise.
And if we ever find each other again, won't the miracle be too great for us?
Will there still be anyone to understand it as a rare miracle? Will we still be useful to each other?
Only God can know the answer to this ancient question...
Perhaps fragile as we've become, we'll fall melted by its too-great heat
and in our place will remain a sad legend, as a parable of non-fulfillment, forever.
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