The city and us

 

 

The city keeps the memory

of our brief encounter.

She remembers you well,

she lives with my existence.

The city used to love us 

h and we used to dream

in every portal where we

met under her moon

and kissed to the sad music

of the everpresent tango.

 

 

 

 

River

 

 

Our river flows unconcerned,

hidden in itself, unhurried.

Our river keeps track

of our affections and hates,

of our sudden departures,

of our struggles and wars,

of our occasional victories.

Yes,our river knows us,

our love is still there,

together with our names

blended in its waters.

Long distance flames

 

Long distance flames

He cared for her,

she cared for him.

And in a strange way

they kept apart.

Each busy in his world,

each eager to be free.

They had no time to share,

they had all the time to win.

They saw the world,

they saw life unfolding,

they saw dusks and dawns,

pictures and shadows,

mirrors of their lives,

bridges never crossed.

They said they were fine.

No one knew their pain,

they only shared it

with pillows and stars

Memories

 

 

When they asked him about her

he only smiled,

No one asked her about him,

she always cried.

If he remembered her,

she was not to know,

he left without telling,

kept his memories of her

under key and lock.

She made of him her muse,

her hero and her god.

She bound him to life,

made him live in every line,

regardless of lands and stars.

He would always be

the One,the Beloved.

She defied Time and Death

keeping him in her writings.

Her love and her longing

bought his immortality.,

Wanderer

 

 

Just a wanderer in time,

hiding in shadows,

basking in a dubious sun,

just waiting for Night.

Just a wanderer of old,

trying to find you again

In the portals of youth,

in the rumours of the river,

in the melancholy words

of an old tango in the dark.

Just a wanderer in time,

travelling through lives,

with your scent on my soul

and your dearest memory

as my constant companion.

The river knows of desire,

the portals of hidden loves…

That is why the dark waters

refuse to wash out your name

and the grey stones keep it

carved out under all weathers,

just like I do, unfazed.

Puzzle

 

 

The puzzle lies in front of me,

pieces added, pieces missing,

the puzzle holds the secret

to the hidden labyrinth.

Ruled by unspoken laws,

perversely happy in its enigma,

holding answers not expected,

guarding doggedly its secret,

the puzzle beats to its music

guiding me through days, nights,

seconds and hours of despair,

of contentment, of oblivion.

The puzzle is, I see it now

my own self, my own life.

Waters

 

 

 

Under a silver night,

our river sleeps, unfazed.

Waters murmur softly,

dreams woven into them.

I just peer into the night

with stars shedding tears 

knowing you are gone.

Still, the dark waters

call our names in their sleep.

Leave taking

 

From the days of your absence,

 the abyss of your indifference,

the coldness of your silence,

from the solitude of my days,

I have piled up my earnings,

I have counted my blessings,

I have packed my belongings,

I have hit that scary, open road,

I have walked my talk of bravery,

I have become myself once again,

I have retrieved my own power,

I have left you to your own self,

left you to the ropes of your  making,

to the whips and chains of games,

to the days and nights without me,

without my body, without my love,

without my tears, without my lust,

I have left you to your own self,

I have left you to your own journey.

 

Remains

 

 

Just rags eaten by moths,

 dust on old books,

dried petals without scent,

that is all that remains

from a thwarted love affair,

a secret buried in old linen

together with lavender sachets.

Memories in a house no one visits,

a garden left untended,

tears turned into nothingness,

while the pale sun of Winter

warms the porch that waits for no one.

Forgotten woman

 

The limbs of a forgotten woman

are like handles of a dead clock,

trying to turn and signal the hours

only to find stillness and silence.

Desire flows through her body,

only to find its object gone,

tears of pain and solitary climaxes

course her face fading hope.

The body of a forgotten woman,

becomes a memory in itself,

a trodden upon, well-known territory,

owing no excuses to a fancy map.

The spirit of a forgotten woman

becomes the one that nurtures her

pushes her forward in cold nights

and teaches her old female secrets

to go on in search of her own sun.

 

 

Daze

 

 

I slept under an old tree, 

when I woke up

the garden was no more.

I slept under a cloud,

when I woke up

the sky was no more.

I slept under the moon,

when I woke up

the night was no more.

Garden, sky and night,

dreams within a dream...

who knows when we are awake,

who knows if we are still asleep...

Beauty

 

 

 

 

 

And I saw her and then I knew

everything was right.

The circle closed and opened again

completion and freedom

both surrendered us to light.

The rose

 

 

 

He loved her so much

he gave her a rose,

the most beautiful rose

In his exotic garden.

She broke into tears,

ran to his garden

to find the mother plant

that has lost her child.

She tried to join them,

and saw it was no use.

She cried for her rose,

fated to die in a vase

because of his love for her.

Lace and roses

 

 

 

Old white lace and dried red roses,

sharing their loneliness of years,

together in a silken creamy box,

at the mercy of diligent hands,

of minimalist decluttering efforts,

lost to the world and themselves,

still bearing the touch of loving hands

and the slight whispers of desire.

Old white lace yellowing softly,

dried red roses losing their colour,

hidden together in a silken box,

bearing the fading scent of eerie lust,

the evanescent laughter of the years,

the echoes of names engraved

in the floating seconds of a love affair.

Just that

 

 

 

Just dusty objects in a box,

just traces of love affairs,

of friendships long gone

and whispers in bedrooms.

Just a house standing alone,

bearing witness through time.

Just our memories in the air,

some words echoing softly

in the dark tunnels of the mind,

smiles of long-gone days,

flimsy stories refusing to die.

Goodbye

 

 

I had just failed to see

your  scheduled parting,

the swift tearing apart

from flesh, love and desire.

It was just one moment

in a never forgotten day

when all pieces came together;

the days of persistent silence,

the messages blatantly ignored,

the meaningless, empty words,

all blended in a wretched puzzle.

And though still next to me somehow

you were by choice already gone,

gone into the pursuit of other arms,

in the search of other smiles and beds,

on the prowl for excitement and lust.

I was not surprised when you left,

I had already said my painful goodbye.

Lost love

 

 

 

Looking back in time,

trying vainly  to light

the tarnished lamps

of our connection,

finding only sad ashes

instead of hot passion,

walking among the debris

of our ruined feelings,

 just an ageing priestess

in a moth devoured temple,

a deserted, decaying  place,

where all the gods are gone.

Memories

 

 

They have to leave the house,

the house painted so lovingly,

they carry their cat with them,

they already placed their dog

In a kennel, till they find a place,

they don't complain, they go on,

just seeing all is taken care of.

And the child follows them,

shaken for a minute at first,

at their rapidly changing station,

comforted then at their new one.

They would change hotels,

adjusting,making ends meet,

keeping together in loyalty.

The child dutifully goes along,

trying not to make too much noise,

while she plays in the corridors

of a sometimes dreary hotel,

remembering their old house,

the house where she was born.

Finally, they find a new house,

they can afford the new rent,

they move in relieved at last,

they bring back their old dog,

happy with him and the cat

they settle down once again.

They didn´t know perhaps then

but they had brought up 

a sort of spiritual vagabond, 

a staunch bohemian at best.

In spite of all the upheavals

I am grateful to them now,

for keeping together in hardships,

for leaving no animal behind,

for doing their best as they could,

because you see,I was that child.

 

Flash backward

 

And I walked to the neighbourhood

where you used to live years back,

I stood in front of the house,

the one that used to be yours long ago,

seems other people live there now

.I looked at the old door, iron and glass,

and I saw behind it the very steps

I used to climb happily, hurriedly,

rushing to find the safety of your arms.

I could catch a glimpse of the big hall

and the sunlight shining on other lives

.And then I saw ourselves as we were then,

I had time to wish I had known then

what I have managed to know now

but it was not to be, only Time decides that.

And so, I kissed your face lovingly

and I patted my younger self on the arm,

and finally came back to my present,

wishing the people who live there now

a story as romantic as ours used to be

but decidedly more linked to happiness.

 

She

 

And the King said 

she ought to live in the tower,

And the Queen said 

she ought to live in the gardens.

And country folks said

she ought to marry and have babies.

And King and Queen said

they ought to kill some old dog

all because he could hunt no more.

So she called the old dog,

got food and water for both,

some little money and clothes

and they left together before dawn.

No one saw them leave, 

the morning star refused to shine,

the sun rose later that day,

the clouds gathered in the sky,

all to hide them from preening eyes.

No one looks for them now,

he protects her from evil,

she protects him from men.

They roam the countries together,

free at last from slavery,

they are here and there,

foe to no one, friends to each other,

they come and go, never to return

to gilded prisons where life dies slowly.

They one day, lost in time ahead

will become one with the soil,

in the meantime they are free.

Only the sky protects them,

only the stars cry for them,

but the sun always rejoices,

and the moon guards their sleep.

Nature welcomes her own,

if only they come as children to her.

 

 

Impressum

Texte: Elizabeth Aldam
Bildmaterialien: Elizabeth Aldam
Cover: Elizabeth Aldam
Lektorat: Elizabeth Aldam
Korrektorat: Elizabeth Aldam
Übersetzung: Original in English.
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 21.11.2023

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Widmung:
To someone i met long ago., a boy with a friendly smile, to an artist with sad paintings and to memories of love and joy.