such joy like mountain water? It brims, it spills over and over
down to the parched earth and the relentless wheels.
How often will I think of you, until
our dying steps forget this light, forget
that we ever knew the happy glen,
or that I ever said, We must jump into the sun,
and we jumped into the sun.

(from ‘From a City Balcony’ by Edwin Morgan, Collected Poems p.183-84)
No comments:
Post a Comment