letra de elegy for jane - theodore roethke
i remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;
and her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;
and how, once started into talk, the light syllables leaped for her
and she balanced in the delight of her thought
a wren, happy, tail into the wind
her song trembling the twigs and small branches
the shade sang with her;
the leaves, their whispers turned to kissing
and the mould sang in the bleached valleys under the rose
oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth
even a father could not find her:
scr-ping her cheek against straw
stirring the clearest water
my sparrow, you are not here
waiting like a fern, making a spiney shadow
the sides of wet stones cannot console me
nor the moss, wound with the last light
if only i could nudge you from this sleep
my maimed darling, my skittery pigeon
over this damp grave i speak the words of my love:
i, with no rights in this matter
neither father nor lover
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