“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)
Eine schwüle Brise
The shadow of the hand that closed the door
The doors that saw many things pass
An easy chair for the dustman
"At night when everyone's asleep
It must be very late! I creep
Softly down the darkened stairs
To the big room where we have prayers,
And, standing at the window,
I watch the Dustman going by.
Perched up on his high seat he looks
Like charioteers in those old books,
And his long coat, when the lights are dim,
Makes funny shadows all over him."
(S. O'Sullivan in The dustman)
Eindhoven (NL)