| [00:08.78] |
Lying apart now,each in a separate bed |
| [00:14.15] |
He with a book keeping the light on late |
| [00:18.76] |
She like a girl dreaming of childhood |
| [00:22.47] |
All men elsewhere - it is as if they wait Some new event: |
| [00:29.47] |
The book he holds unread |
| [00:32.97] |
Her eyes fixed on the shadows overhead |
| [00:38.31] |
Tossed up like flotsam from a former passion |
| [00:43.17] |
How cool they lie.They hardly ever touch |
| [00:48.46] |
Or if they do, it is like a confession |
| [00:52.71] |
Of having little feeling - or too much |
| [00:58.35] |
Chastity faces them a destination |
| [01:02.89] |
For which their whole lives were a preparation |
| [01:09.02] |
Strangely apart, yet strangely close together |
| [01:17.43] |
Silence between them like a thread to hold |
| [01:22.50] |
And not wind in. And time itself's a feather,Touching them gently |
| [01:30.84] |
Do they know they're old |
| [01:34.06] |
These two who are my father and my mother |
| [01:38.42] |
Whose fire from which I came,has now grown cold? |
