He is more than a hero
He is a god in my eyes —
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you — he
who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing
laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can’t
speak — my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,
hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body
and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn’t far from me.
Somehow it feels slightly wrong that I will forever associated Sappho with Kalat.
4 comments:
Marvellous!
You know, I saw him the other day, hooded, on a bridge, dragging his mother to or from something. I smiled and looked down.
So.. why did I just get the mental picture of him (wearing "caveman leather") dragging her on the groud, by the hair?
I don't know, but I had a very similar mental image.
And I just watched, smiled and thought "Yeah, that's my old teacher alright!"
But, uh... that was not how it went. He used words and stuff. Cotton hood, no leather.
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