<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368073" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Dark August</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky<br>of this black August. My sister, the sun,<br>broods in her yellow room and won't come out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Everything goes to hell; the mountains fume<br>like a kettle, rivers overrun; still,<br>she will not rise and turn off the rain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She is in her room, fondling old things,<br>my poems, turning her album. Even if thunder falls<br>like a crash of plates from the sky,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">she does not come out.<br>Don't you know I love you but am hopeless<br>at fixing the rain ? But I am learning slowly</div><div style="margin:10px 0">to love the dark days, the steaming hills,<br>the air with gossiping mosquitoes,<br>and to sip the medicine of bitterness,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">so that when you emerge, my sister,<br>parting the beads of the rain,<br>with your forehead of flowers and eyes of forgiveness,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">all with not be as it was, but it will be true<br>(you see they will not let me love<br>as I want), because, my sister, then</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I would have learnt to love black days like bright ones,<br>The black rain, the white hills, when once<br>I loved only my happiness and you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Derek+Walcott">Derek Walcott</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=368073" data-title="Dark August de Derek Walcott" data-description="So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky of this black August. My sister, the sun, broods in her yellow room and won't come out. Everything goes to hell; the mountains fume like a kettle, rivers overrun; still, she will not rise and turn o..."></div> </div> </div>

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