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- After Paradise
- by C. Milosz
- Don't run any more. Quiet. How softly it rains
- On the roofs of the city. How perfect
- All things are. Now, for the two of you
- Waking up in a royal bed by a garret window.
- For a man and a woman. For one plant divided
- Into masculine and feminine which longed for each other.
- Yes, this is my gift to you. Above ashes
- On a bitter, bitter earth. Above the subterranean
- Echo of clamorings and vows. So that now at dawn
- You must be attentive: the tilt of a head,
- A hand with a comb, two faces in a mirror
- Are only forever, even if unremembered,
- So that you watch what it is, though it fades away,
- And are grateful every moment for your being.
- Let that little park with greenish marble busts
- In the pearl-gray light, under a summer drizzle,
- Remain as it was when you opened the gate.
- And the street of tall peeling porticos
- Which this love of yours suddenly transformed.
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