<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=523677" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Pied à terre</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once within a break in brambly fields<br> something stirred its fearful head in sleep: <br>Though it be woman or child, work or vision<br> something that dares not hold me in derision</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But till that lingering day bares your face<br> with prating breath I bide my bane<br>And even as I clear the brake, shift the trunks<br> hosannas crop up before you every dawn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And someday as I have you in my arms<br> in osculation's brimming nirvanic bliss, <br>May I not then turn away empty handed<br> though warm in your inane atmanic face</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then as I wend my kindly way down the road<br> pitch my tent on this terraqueous matter-mind<br>Should I then go looking for my immortality<br> through doors that are forever locked to me</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or could I then lie upon nescience' impervious skies<br> upon some smoky grass unmapped or husbanded<br>And hear the awakening cries of spring born trees<br> then get up to wind my way to some factory blast</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(©: T. Wignesan,1957, from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=T.+Wignesan">T. Wignesan</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=523677" data-title="Pied à terre de T. Wignesan" data-description="Once within a break in brambly fields something stirred its fearful head in sleep: Though it be woman or child, work or vision something that dares not hold me in derision But till that lingering day bares your face with prating breath I bide..."></div> </div> </div>

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