Those guys, I’ve stood at their doorsteps
shouting “oh please, not again this shady
shame! Just stay low and let it be like it
should be”. But they were never able to.
Attraction can never be told to be…
A man once saw a glimpse of a girl
during a Church Service in April
1327. Her name was Laura…
The sudden glance that catches you –
the sight of a slender hand, a smooth
unintentional smile, a bare forearm’s
alluring lines only half covered by a
blouse sleeve, the sound of a voice…
Man or woman? Same Cupid’s wound!
Coming closer, rushing pulse…
The beloved’s fragrance…Oh!
Why – and when passes attraction to
tampered lust? Misery and rhapsody?
Better than a fantasy of what could be?
(All I ever had craved for he wanted to
give me – but he was not the right one!)
And time goes by, decades and centuries
pass, dawn turns to dusk and dust. My
time is up and even for me it’s “too late”,
I’m not a woman anymore, just a voice
and words written in darkish nights.
A poem by Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch) (1304 -1374)
You who hear the sound, in scattered rhymes,
of those sighs on which I fed my heart,
in my first vagrant youthfulness,
when I was partly other than I am,
I hope to find pity, and forgiveness,
for all the modes in which I talk and weep,
between vain hope and vain sadness,
in those who understand love through its trials.
Yet I see clearly now I have become
an old tale amongst all these people, so that
it often makes me ashamed of myself;
and shame is the fruit of my vanities,
and remorse, and the clearest knowledge
of how the world’s delight is a brief dream.