 |
| The Door Do you remember the garden back in Tuscany Surrounded by age-old crumbling walls? Grey stones emanating still the day's incessant heat. Wind rustling in the silvery leaves of olive trees And stars so bright and plentiful On the deep dark blue firmament. Soft breezes from the sea And herbs and lemon trees and poppies Whose blaring red we'll never see again. Down at the garden's very end there is a door, An ancient door, grim satyrs looking down from it. The door has been closed for ages now. Can you hear the voices whispering behind it, And nightingales and larks and blackbirds singing? And even in this darkest night A light is shining through the edges of the door. Could it be the sunshine that we'll never see again? "Why do you keep looking at that ancient door?" You asked. "Come back to me". And drunk on your sweet words of love, Drunk on your fiery ardent kisses, Drunk on your precious red-hot blood I finally obeyed. "Give life and all its glory back to me," you prayed. "And I will never leave you!" And so did I. I answered all your prayers. For love I broke my vow at last. That night we did not walk through the old door, But into the midst of life we plunged again, Life which swallowed you so greedily in all the years to come. You're nothing now but a precious treasured memory. Your lavender eyes. Your sweet soft lips. Your kisses that were heaven once for me. Where are you now when I would need you most, When I am so much in despair? On the cathedral's stairs I'm standing here, With snow softly falling on my face, Mingling with the blood-red tears. Waiting for the sun I thought that I would never see again. My arms are stretched out wide. My fears are gone and so are you. Ah, if you could see what I see now. The voices whisper. The birds sing. The door opens wide. |
 |