I didn't realise it was
just a dream,
so I held on
to a nonexisting future .
I reaped this tasteless future
of hope, and the
sense of absence ...
I was a strange inhabitant
of other walls ...
Foreigner in the country
of love ... this way,
I got involved in her aura,
in this fleeting adventure
of love ...
Empty, empty I stayed,
to wander ... I wandered without
whereabouts...
No whereabouts I seek
yet, my soul
lost ... soul that
stayed with her
in the mist ...!
I don't have filled spaces.
Nonexisting time lies to me,
making me feel as if I were not empty.
Space remains painfully unoccupied in me.
There is no prince
no poetry or sigh
that a sigh without cause is consequence of passion.
There is no romance or excitement.
Word or song.
Meaning or ignorance.
I don't have time, it's true,
for I am filled with the strange intensity of freedom and youth.
However, all the space of my soul I keep
like a ballroom with no ball.
. . . If someone shouted in me . . .
it would echo.
Patricia Evans