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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358555" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Discordants</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I. (Bread and Music)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Music I heard with you was more than music, <br>And bread I broke with you was more than bread; <br>Now that I am without you, all is desolate; <br>All that was once so beautiful is dead. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Your hands once touched this table and this silver, <br>And I have seen your fingers hold this glass. <br>These things do not remember you, belovèd, <br>And yet your touch upon them will not pass. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For it was in my heart you moved among them, <br>And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes; <br>And in my heart they will remember always,-- <br>They knew you once, O beautiful and wise. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My heart has become as hard as a city street, <br>The horses trample upon it, it sings like iron, <br>All day long and all night long they beat, <br>They ring like the hooves of time.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My heart has become as drab as a city park, <br>The grass is worn with the feet of shameless lovers, <br>A match is struck, there is kissing in the dark, <br>The moon comes, pale with sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My heart is torn with the sound of raucous voices, <br>They shout from the slums, from the streets, from the crowded places, <br>And tunes from the hurdy-gurdy that coldly rejoices <br>Shoot arrows into my heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dead Cleopatra lies in a crystal casket, <br>Wrapped and spiced by the cunningest of hands. <br>Around her neck they have put a golden necklace, <br>Her tatbebs, it is said, are worn with sands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dead Cleopatra was once revered in Egypt, <br>Warm-eyed she was, this princess of the South. <br>Now she is old and dry and faded, <br>With black bitumen they have sealed up her mouth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O sweet clean earth, from whom the green blade cometh! <br>When we are dead, my best belovèd and I, <br>Close well above us, that we may rest forever, <br>Sending up grass and blossoms to the sky. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the noisy street, <br>Where the sifted sunlight yellows the pallid faces, <br>Sudden I close my eyes, and on my eyelids <br>Feel from the far-off sea a cool faint spray,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A breath on my cheek, <br>From the tumbling breakers and foam, the hard sand shattered, <br>Gulls in the high wind whistling, flashing waters, <br>Smoke from the flashing waters blown on rocks;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">--And I know once more, <br>O dearly belovèd! that all these seas are between us, <br>Tumult and madness, desolate save for the sea-gulls, <br>You on the farther shore, and I in this street.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Conrad+Potter+Aiken">Conrad Potter Aiken</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358555" data-title="Discordants de Conrad Potter Aiken" data-description="I. (Bread and Music)

Music I heard with you was more than music, 
And bread I broke with you was more than bread; 
Now that I am without you, all is desolate; 
All that was once so beautiful is dead. 

Your hands once touched this table and this ..."></div>
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