Poetry, thats what this blog is about.

sábado, 4 de setembro de 2010

"The Last House..."

The last house of this village stands

as alone as if it were the last house in the world.

The road, that the little village cannot hold,

moves on slowly out into the night.

The little village is but a place of transition,

expectant and afraid, between two vast distances,

a passageway along houses instead of a bridge.

And those who leave the village may wander

a long time, and many may die perhaps

along the way.

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