La coquette (traducere în Engleză)

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The coquette

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She lives in the museum of her vanished youth
She offers a cookie , we say no she says yes
She took all the mirrors off
She avoids her image , she no longer wants to see herself
She lives with pictures of the past all around her
Her face from long ago , her treasure , her trophy
The skin of a peach , tighten satin tissue
But time steps on it & takes its gift back
The prettiest flowers tarnish & wither away
Lucky young girls become old women
Her wrinkled skin is a sheet we grab
A hanky to cry over her husband passing away
A line on her forehead for each of her sons
& Her rumpled eyelids , her children going away
Her hands opening out are like spiders
That frighten little ones but reassure their elders
The streaks on the corners of her eyes are the furrows of rivers
Where widows' tears flow little by little
She says years write on faces
& Deletions clutter up the page
Let's enjoy the nice weather before the rain shower
She kills the time before it kills her
She refuses & regrets , she's old now
As an excuse , she repeats , she used to be beautiful
But the prettiest flowers tarnish & wither away
Lucky young girls become old women
Who have the beauty of Pyramids or Louvre
The beauty of mountains , the glaciers protecting them
 
Postat de GuestGuest la Vineri, 01/01/2010 - 00:00
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La coquette

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