My green youth, poisoned!
But not by chin, or eyes, or hair:
By pinewoods, with a healthy blue dose,
And fields, one nice open smile.
Maybe it’s bad, maybe no use,
My being sad and close to tears like this,
But my own eyes, and heart gone wild,
Did really see that many buds.
And felt for that bleak stretch of field,
The seas of sheer desire there.
I hope some of this will show through
In my book, to a few.
Dear reader, you must know what for.
Don’t be taken in, or look for more.
The way the sky, fresh out of rain, shows clear,
Just so: there’s nothing human here.
What was she like? Where did she live?
And was she beautiful, or not?
Who cares? Remember, it’s a stage
Routine: to wring the hands a lot.
(Jonas Aistis)
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Based on Topics: Youth Poems, Beauty Poems, Smiling Poems, Hair Poems, Books Poems, Health PoemsBased on Keywords: pinewoods