Night After Night

Night After Night short poem

Night after night,

watching your face shimmer with tears,

night after night,

watching your face burrow into my breast,

I have wondered, my love,

full of misery and mystery,

I have wondered.

This being,

so incredibly sad,

this being,

so infinitely beautiful,

this being,

this quivering flesh,

this bundle of magic,

why do you cry at my touch?

Why do you crumble in my embrace?

In the depths of nights,

what breezes rip your heart apart?

What moons play with your dreams?

What demons let loose the seas held in your eyes?

Night after night,

watching you sleep your quiet sleep,

I have wondered, my love,

I have wondered.

Why do you live suddenly?

Why do you kiss without a hint?

Why do you fall silent without a murmur?

On some perfectly harmless mornings,

what makes you cover your breasts?

On some completely ordinary afternoons,

what makes you walk around without clothes

under the gaze of chairs and lamps and some innocent cats?

What mornings place flowers in your hair?

What evenings turn your braids loose?

In what indecipherable languages, do you speak with your mirrors?

Night after night,

watching you smile,

watching you whisper,

watching you tremble in your dreams,

I have wondered, my love,

I have wondered.

On what rivers, do you swim naked?

On what horses, do you ride towards the horizon?

On what nights, do you sleep like a child?

On whose shores, are you a seashell?

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Balaji Gopalan

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I owe all of my poetry to the influence of Pablo Neruda. Reading him 10 years ago on the beaches of Goa, gave me the permission to be who I am and write what I feel. My poetry has never been the same after that. All that I write is an offering to Neruda.
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