Roadkill
The feel of my arm around your waist,
The pale blue nightdress that you wore.
Your hair in braids, your sailor top:
The things I don't see anymore.
You lost your suitcase in my hotel room,
A subway token from your Ma.
The sun reflecting off the water on your face
And the way you drove your car.
All these things I can't forget
Though I don't see you anymore.
Drove to the airport through a traffic jam;
A deer lay dying in the road.
Maybe I should have seen it as some kind of sign,
Except I don't believe in them no more.
But I believe these things I can't forget,
Though I don't see you anymore.
Yes, I believe these things I can't forget,
´Cause I see them - though I don't see you anymore.
Pulp
The pale blue nightdress that you wore.
Your hair in braids, your sailor top:
The things I don't see anymore.
You lost your suitcase in my hotel room,
A subway token from your Ma.
The sun reflecting off the water on your face
And the way you drove your car.
All these things I can't forget
Though I don't see you anymore.
Drove to the airport through a traffic jam;
A deer lay dying in the road.
Maybe I should have seen it as some kind of sign,
Except I don't believe in them no more.
But I believe these things I can't forget,
Though I don't see you anymore.
Yes, I believe these things I can't forget,
´Cause I see them - though I don't see you anymore.
Pulp
posted by Ana Carolina Braz at 2:35 AM
2 Comments:
Eis que procurava pelo poema: "Poppies in october" da Plath e encontrei umas belas companhias para esse poema amarguinho, até o Auden está por aqui. Gostei!
Que bom! O Poppies é um dos meus favoritos:D
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