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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=476540" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Deep In The Night</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deep in the night that shells its husk of blue<br>to pan the nuggets of its stars from a darker stream, <br>the heart an executioner with a fistful of pardons, <br>and the soft, moist, lulling of the evening air, <br>the threshing of slow fish, <br>I'm enthroned alone in a crucial palace of light<br>that realigns its domains to the borders of the wind, <br>and I don't want to feel lonely but I do, <br>and I don't want to miss so many, so many faces<br>stripped from the bough like a savaged telephone-book, <br>so many feathers of light drifting through the shadows of their names, <br>and the black granite of the uncarved bell<br>that turtles the blood under the eyelid of the knowing, <br>that makes my eyes want to scream<br>until the pillars of the dead sea fall like rotten salt: <br>how long can one road endure the passage of everything<br>walking life off into the stars that measure the miles in skulls? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Was I young? Were you there in the brindled moonlight? <br>Did I remember how to love you well; did I see with long eyes<br>how you rose out of the chest of the hills like a spirit leaving, <br>the blue effulgence of your nebulous departure<br>almost a cocoon of morning mist, the last breath of a lake<br>as if an indigo thistle released its silk to the wind <br>or a dandelion relinquished its ivory mane? <br>Were you the soul of me that lingered by gates and wharves? <br>Have you come back now with your bells of blood and lamps of flesh? <br>Can I feel again the leaves of the silver herbs <br>in the gardens of your fingertips? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Touch me like the breaking of a fast, <br>find me like a river in the night, <br>the dazzled theme of a wandering valley, <br>and pour your journey into mine like stars into a vine, <br>shadows running down the worn convictions of the stairs, <br>the midnight wines of old eclipses in the goblets of your eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once for the flame that dances on the wick of the tongue, <br>Once for the orchards that plead with the heart for birds, <br>Once for the envelope that read the letter it married, <br>and you, by the river, a sapphire among rocks, <br>tender blue grass in the translucent water-skin of the night, <br>loving me once as if your hands were autumns full of departure<br>and your eyes, the gulf of the world in your eyes, your eyes<br>were the soft flowing of the dark honeys<br>that leak from the wounded hives<br>we carry like knives to the grave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Distinguished among broken clocks, <br>sultry and bitter, a quarantined bay of refugee stars, <br>caught in the threshing blades of a circular waterfall, <br>a mess of tents I've furloughed across the milky distances<br>like a chain-letter from a secret constellation to you, <br>I blue the intimate spaces between us with time<br>and patch the maps with the confluence of our lifelines<br>and try to restore the eyes in the sockets of our bridges<br>under a brow of swallows in the dusk. And I remember<br>all the names of the flowers, all the names of the stars, <br>all the badges of love that heaven and earth once offered<br>in lieu of the reasons why <br>love bares the skin of a poppy<br>to the teeth of the hunting sun<br>and then flares like a firefly<br>over the water-lamps of the moon, <br>but when it dies of its own self-inflicted wounds, <br>slashed by shadows among the ripe fruit of its vowels, <br>and the seed wasn't asked and the harvest had no choice<br>there are always two skies, <br>one bound by roots, the other, eyes, <br>at the back of every voice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Patrick+White">Patrick White</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=476540" data-title="Deep In The Night de Patrick White" data-description="Deep in the night that shells its husk of blue
to pan the nuggets of its stars from a darker stream, 
the heart an executioner with a fistful of pardons, 
and the soft, moist, lulling of the evening air, 
the threshing of slow fish, 
I'm enthroned..."></div>
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