But I'll try to paint the picture for you :
A moldy bench facing the sea
The city lights bullying the stars into leaving the scene
And the moon cowering behind the giants
No, they are just old buildings we grew tired of minding
So they willingly faded into the background
I'm sitting on the bench
I'm looking at the void
I don't turn to see your expression
While I blurt
What I've kept in the bottle for too long
You asked me countless times to write a poem about you
"That's just gay.", I'd retort
Before I bite my tongue lest the rest of it slips :
"I can't write an abridged poem of what I want to say
When it amounts to hefty volumes"
And this is not a poem about you, anyway
It is not a poem about our thing -our weird friendship, either
This is about how I feel when I talk
And you listen
Because I never talk, while people listen
That is, talk freely without expecting an interruption to hijack the plane
Rarely do I get to say what's really on my mind
Dig up the things I sunk to the bottom of the muddy pond
Dexterously hidden beneath a reflection of a sullen moon
See, I treat my thoughts like vintage
That's too expensive to pop open at soirees of buffoonery
I speak Triviality most of the time
Because that's the common tongue around here
I speak Triviality, because nonsense is cheap
And you don't have to dig deep
To get hold of some nonsense to please the ears and pass the time
But ,you and I,
When we first exhausted our resources of the conventional
And it was time I got bored of pretending to enjoy our conversational frivolity
I turned to you and I spat some sensible nonsense that I thought
Would get past your security check and join the rest unnoticed
But you raised your brows in your usual incredulity
And I realized,
That you think...in Mandarin as well
Oh, my God
Words I don't remember where i learnt,
Come out on their own, when we talk
Thoughts my mind ruled as junk and swept under the rug
I soon forgot they existed
Come out of their hiding place, when we talk
And I prate till the candles of my zeal are entirely burnt
Words come out on their own
And they spring from honesty, for a change
It sounds like the nonsense that I usually write and nobody reads
Inordinate metaphors and unceremonious rhymes
Because, the only time i'm completely honest is when my pen does the talking
So I try not to look at your face when I mount the tribune
And recite the rhapsodies flowing like Niagra Falls
In ancient Mandarin, that I thought was long extinct
I don't pretend to be ideal
I don't try to be civil
I don't try to sound cool, nor to be poetic smart-ass
I don't aim for your assent
Nor for a hassle to prove a point, because at that instant,
I'm too elated by the fact that you actually get what i'm talking about
You told me once that we are "too similar yet, too different at the same time"
As absurd as that sounds, I still remember that peculiar statement
Because somehow I could relate
We are irrevocably,
Acutely,
Haplessly
And helplessly missed up
But in our own ways
No, the expression is elegantly chaotic
I get to be an elegant lump of chaos to my heart's content with you
And I'm glad there aren't many people like you around
That would suck the fun out of our narcotic conversations
So, my friend, thanks God for YOU
A moldy bench facing the sea
The city lights bullying the stars into leaving the scene
And the moon cowering behind the giants
No, they are just old buildings we grew tired of minding
So they willingly faded into the background
I'm sitting on the bench
I'm looking at the void
I don't turn to see your expression
While I blurt
What I've kept in the bottle for too long
You asked me countless times to write a poem about you
"That's just gay.", I'd retort
Before I bite my tongue lest the rest of it slips :
"I can't write an abridged poem of what I want to say
When it amounts to hefty volumes"
And this is not a poem about you, anyway
It is not a poem about our thing -our weird friendship, either
This is about how I feel when I talk
And you listen
Because I never talk, while people listen
That is, talk freely without expecting an interruption to hijack the plane
Rarely do I get to say what's really on my mind
Dig up the things I sunk to the bottom of the muddy pond
Dexterously hidden beneath a reflection of a sullen moon
See, I treat my thoughts like vintage
That's too expensive to pop open at soirees of buffoonery
I speak Triviality most of the time
Because that's the common tongue around here
I speak Triviality, because nonsense is cheap
And you don't have to dig deep
To get hold of some nonsense to please the ears and pass the time
But ,you and I,
When we first exhausted our resources of the conventional
And it was time I got bored of pretending to enjoy our conversational frivolity
I turned to you and I spat some sensible nonsense that I thought
Would get past your security check and join the rest unnoticed
But you raised your brows in your usual incredulity
And I realized,
That you think...in Mandarin as well
Oh, my God
Words I don't remember where i learnt,
Come out on their own, when we talk
Thoughts my mind ruled as junk and swept under the rug
I soon forgot they existed
Come out of their hiding place, when we talk
And I prate till the candles of my zeal are entirely burnt
Words come out on their own
And they spring from honesty, for a change
It sounds like the nonsense that I usually write and nobody reads
Inordinate metaphors and unceremonious rhymes
Because, the only time i'm completely honest is when my pen does the talking
So I try not to look at your face when I mount the tribune
And recite the rhapsodies flowing like Niagra Falls
In ancient Mandarin, that I thought was long extinct
I don't pretend to be ideal
I don't try to be civil
I don't try to sound cool, nor to be poetic smart-ass
I don't aim for your assent
Nor for a hassle to prove a point, because at that instant,
I'm too elated by the fact that you actually get what i'm talking about
You told me once that we are "too similar yet, too different at the same time"
As absurd as that sounds, I still remember that peculiar statement
Because somehow I could relate
We are irrevocably,
Acutely,
Haplessly
And helplessly missed up
But in our own ways
No, the expression is elegantly chaotic
I get to be an elegant lump of chaos to my heart's content with you
And I'm glad there aren't many people like you around
That would suck the fun out of our narcotic conversations
So, my friend, thanks God for YOU
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