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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471571" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Days of the Sun</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A spill of crimson engulfs the lusty fringing line<br>Whilst cobalt and mauve bicker to intertwine<br>And saturate in a gelid-steely hue to define<br>The girth and skin of the poignant horizon<br>As the gloaming dawn close to topple the occasion</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How many colors does the dusk possess? <br>And why these few tarry on my firmament? <br>The plethora of sunsets I obstinately watched<br>Cannot descry what destitution beguiles<br>So I count and gaze, on an on, without a mind </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A phalanx can beckon the exodus in His corolla, <br>Obstruct the panorama and anticipate the doom<br>As it esplanade through a month of setting suns<br>Futilely for the sunrise yonder its tawny cape<br>That never comes around, never fixes me bound</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of His elegiac maladroit songs by crickets and cicadas <br>Somnolent brewed to regurgitate the pensive calculations<br>For many a sunset only undulates to extend and never ascend<br>Is solitarily reckoned with a masquerade of rues and whines<br>As the light of hope and significance fell with the shade casted</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the immense parliament of the looming shadows<br>I trample vociferously disowned by my own days<br>And the feigned elation held the sunsets at bay<br>And, in a fencing veneer, stockpiled are the days to follow<br>For the adamant raiment of sedative bliss remained</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Without my vicious skies, who then am I? <br>A ray of melancholia sifts through interpolating clouds<br>Struggling to expose its soigné flesh of albino<br>Into the torpor of my bleared yet thriving iron eyes<br>He breathed again, soldering, for a myriad of tomorrows</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Emancipated from the mendacious lulls of a lunatic enchant<br>My heaving toes sauntered back His sorrowful malingering<br>In a day of dance of building shades, superfluous dips into the sea, <br>A thousand sheets of stripped sincerity and of risqué vulnerability, <br>Scull again, days of the sun! Here comes again the siphoned man! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the moribund croon of the clock spun again<br>Contriving a forbidden tryst like a foreboding roulette<br>Pirouetting fate; pointing daggers and rolling heads<br>A montage in vapors of cold and sighs of incisive death<br>Mantled in familiar hues; Here comes his comrade gloom! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Back underneath my sky, his old barren dominion<br>Where sunsets give birth to another painstakingly<br>And soon it hopes to rise, perhaps in the fester of time<br>Shall it stand triumphant like a monument of beckoning<br>The eyes that remembered that once lingered here</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For now as I woke from a lucid dream and fly from a debauchery<br>With sore and hope and rejuvenation of quintessence, I shall<br>Glacially muse upon the perpetual days of the sun<br>As it shred its glassine skin and run from everyone<br>Into oblivion, where all the quasar's grazes wan</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</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=471571" data-title="The Days of the Sun de Norman Santos" data-description="A spill of crimson engulfs the lusty fringing line
Whilst cobalt and mauve bicker to intertwine
And saturate in a gelid-steely hue to define
The girth and skin of the poignant horizon
As the gloaming dawn close to topple the occasion

How many col..."></div>
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