I was so very aware <br />that the afternoon was dying in the domes, <br />and all around me sounds froze, <br />turned to winding pillars. <br /> <br />I was so very aware <br />that the undulant drift of scents <br />was collapsing into darkness, <br />and it seemed I had never tasted <br />the cold. <br /> <br />Suddenly <br />I awoke so far away <br />and strange, <br />wandering behind my face <br />as though I had hidden my feelings <br />in the sensless relief of the moon. <br /> <br />I was so very aware <br />that <br />I did not recognize you, and perhaps <br />you come, always, <br />every hour, every second, <br />moving through my vigil - then - <br />as through the spectre of a triumphal arch.<br /><br />Nichita Stanescu<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/season-s-end/
