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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=398939" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Nights and days (in answer to T.S. Eliot)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The summer day draws to a end<br>with its last light spent<br>with blaring television sets, <br>at the racetrack, people checking their last bets<br>children playing in passageways<br>that had seen better days<br>and in city block after city block<br>with flower pots being displayed<br>on balconies<br>the rain patters down<br>and time stretches to seven o’clock<br>in another rundown town<br>where vagrants stand under trees in vacant lots<br>trying to shelter against the rainy breeze<br>as human beings with spirits, stripped gone<br>when the streetlamps go on<br>one after another first flickering<br>and prostitutes indiscreetly start to walk the streets <br>rather gay and alluring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The early morning light<br>shines bright through open windows<br>and unfamiliar couples awake next to each other<br>do not even know each other’s names<br>and do not bother to kiss goodbye<br>in apartments and houses where the smell of sex, <br>champagne, beer or wine is still lingering<br>from the nightly escapades<br>and the blue sky shimmers with freshness. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alone in a city apartment, <br>one among hundreds of others, <br>you lit a candle and solitary <br>have a candlelight dinner<br>with sparkling sherry<br>in a long glass<br>and are really beautiful <br>with big dark eyes, <br>a pear shaped face<br>and soft tender lips<br>and think how sweet <br>it would have been<br>if you had some company<br>and life stretches out almost endlessly<br>with going to work, your duties there<br>and coming home to an empty flat<br>and downstairs the Nigerians<br>are having another all-night party<br>with music thumping<br>through the floor, <br>the next-door neighbour<br>is again having a row<br>with his fiancée or wife<br>and they are slamming doors<br>and life is going on<br>in the same way <br>that it usually does.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Somewhere up high, beyond the endless sky, <br>beyond the universe, the Lord is looking down<br>at every city, every single town<br>seeing every person<br>and even their thoughts, personal, private, <br>lascivious or serene<br>becomes part of His understanding<br>of human beings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">[Reference: Preludes by T.S. Eliot.]</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Gert+Strydom">Gert Strydom</a><div class=q>
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The summer day draws to a end
with its last light spent
with blaring television sets, 
at the racetrack, people checking their last bets
children playing in passageways
that had seen better days
and in city block after city block
with flower po..."></div>
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