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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374859" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Poor Angels</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">At this hour the soul floats weightlessly<br>through the city streets, speechless and invisible,<br>astonished by the smoky blend of grays and golds<br>seeping out of the air, the dark half-tones</div><div style="margin:10px 0">of dusk suddenly filling the urban sky<br>while the body sits listlessly by the window<br>sullen and heavy, too exhausted to move,<br>too weary to stand up or to lie down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At this hour the soul is like a yellow wing<br>slipping through the treetops, a little ecstatic<br>cloud hovering over the sidewalks, calling out<br>to the approaching night, “Amaze me, amaze me,”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">while the body sits glumly by the window<br>listening to the clear summons of the dead<br>transparent as glass, clairvoyant as crystal.<br>Some nights it is almost ready to join them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, this is a strange, unlikely tethering,<br>a furious grafting of the quick and the slow:<br>when the soul flies up, the body sinks down<br>and all night—locked in the same cramped room—</div><div style="margin:10px 0">they go on quarreling, stubbornly threatening<br>to leave each other, wordlessly filling the air<br>with the sound of a low internal burning.<br>How long can this bewildering marriage last?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At midnight the soul dreams of a small fire<br>of stars flaming on the other side of the sky,<br>but the body stares into an empty night sheen,<br>a hollow-eyed darkness. Poor luckless angels,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">feverish old loves: don’t separate yet.<br>Let what rises live with what descends.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edward+Hirsch">Edward Hirsch</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=374859" data-title="Poor Angels de Edward Hirsch" data-description="At this hour the soul floats weightlessly
through the city streets, speechless and invisible,
astonished by the smoky blend of grays and golds
seeping out of the air, the dark half-tones

of dusk suddenly filling the urban sky
while the body sits ..."></div>
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