You have a face of carved stone, <br />blood of hardened earth, <br />you came from the sea. <br />All is gathered and scrutinized <br />and rejected by you <br />like the sea. In your heart <br />there's silence and words <br />ingested. You're darkness. <br />For you, dawn is silence. <br /> <br />You're like the voices <br />of the earth—the splash <br />of a pail in a well, <br />the song of the fire, <br />the thud of an apple, <br />resigned words <br />and thumps on thresholds, <br />the cry of a boy—things <br />that never go away. <br />You're not mute. You're darkness. <br /> <br />You're the closed cellar, <br />of beaten earth, <br />where once entered <br />a barefoot boy <br />will always remember. <br />You're the dark room <br />he'll always remember, <br />like the antique courtyard <br />where the dawn revealed itself.<br /><br />Cesare Pavese<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/you-have-a-face-of-carved-stone/
