“You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, “Who is that man?”
You try so hard
But you don’t understand
Just what you’ll say
When you get home”
(Bob Dylan in Ballad of a thin man)
Tilburg (NL)
What remains when the gate has also left the site
Hands groping behind a closed window
“I wandered through a house of many rooms.
It grew darker and darker,
Until, at last, I could only find my way
By passing my fingers along the wall.
Suddenly my hand shot through an open window,
And the thorn of a rose I could not see
Pricked it so sharply
That I cried aloud.”
(A. Lowell, no title, in Pictures of the Floating World)
Eschweiler (D)
Will the laundry be dry by now?
“I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
And laid them away in a box of gold;
Where long will cling the lips of the moth,
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth;
I hide no hate; I am not even wroth
Who found earth’s breath so keen and cold;
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
And laid them away in a box of gold.”
(C. Cullin in For a poet)
Eschweiler (D)
