The English really always win:
Churchill, and Horatio Nelson
Alan Turing and Darwin
I can’t stop thinking about you
If you could be my Wellington..
…I want to be your waterloo
Far, far, away, accross the sea
When I was a lonely pilgrim
An ancient harper sang for me
A tale of yore, a wondrous hymn
The bard was singing full of grace
A song fraught with melancholy
Silent tears rolling down his face
Tears tuned to his own melody
He told me of an Elven-Queen,
Ruling with righteousness and love
The mightiest they’ve ever seen
Iron fist in a velvet glove
Bewitching was her pulchritude
Countless are those who died for it
She throned above the multitude
In looks and talks, in strength and wit
Stunning she was, and merciless
Not unlike the Sword of Justice
In sooth, had she been a Goddess
No doubt she would be Nemesis
Woe betide the day when she left
Since that forlorn day, I wander
My heart felt shattered and bereft
Everywhere, I have searched for her »
« Through the ages echoes her Glory
And soon, again we shall rejoice
She’ll return, says the prophecy
To avenge those who have no voice »
Woebegone, he stopped his lament
At dawn, he departed from me
I know not where the poor man went
On his lips the name « Natalie »
Wish my love life was like ebay
Tu la saisis d’un geste doux,
Poses ta main au creux de son cou,
Caresses sa ronde anatomie,
Tous les deux, blottis sur le lit…
Et sous les frissons de tes doigts
Je l’entends gémir à pleine voix
Moi, en spectateur importun
Je suis de trop,vous ne faîtes qu’un.
Du haut de ses courbes parfaites
Elle savoure ma lente défaite.
Me viennent des idées de revanche
Quand tu poses tes mains sur ses hanches
Dimé,¿ por qué no me tocas?
Ni besos, ni acaricias?
Tu la tocas….la envidio
¡Que lástima! Te deseo…
Je te contemple, énamourée
En silence, j’appelle tes baisers
Mais tu évites mes regards
Comme je l’envie ta guitare…
Don’t you become a memory, painted in black and white,
A piano humming in the soft darkness
The unachieved song of our kissing lips.
I curse the day when I forget your voice…
Don’t you disappear into the blurriness of my mind,
The smoke of this relentless burning candle
Hides your face behind the fog.
I dread the day when you forget my name…
I’m licking the tiny flame of your tongue
This harmful knife of my desires
Distant, distant, already, like an old dog-eared photograph
Your eyes admitting that they are beholding the past
« I remember » I hear those distant words
Seized from a conversation with myself
When your misty face invades my relentless thoughts
And you bless the day when you forget my eyes
You, my exile, my exhaustion
My future long ago,
Regrets are shining in the horizon
Loneliness looming in my mind
I regret the day when I forgot my vow…
I miss you ever since I met you, for I never met you my dear
There was hope, there were illusions, there used to be a sense of fear
I miss remembering your voice, even though it never happened.
I remember when I thought I would meet you. A gate to heaven, a stolen instant from up above. Even my constant fear of death and finitude vanished. I knew it couldn’t be, a case of too good to be true. I am happy you let me believe it. Grateful you lead me on. It was surrealistic! The days I have spent, dancing around, screaming around, chanting, chanting, chanting your name were well worth the following disappointment. I had my ticket to London, the objet of all my worships, of my silent godless prayers. I hadn’t told anybody that we would meet. I kept it secret, lest Karma should hear about it and destroy it. Little did I know, Karma did not need to intervene, it was never meant to be in the first place. I said « I’ll be there next week, could we meet? » you said « maybe », and meant « never ».
I remember the first time I never met you…
It happened in my head, yes it was in my mind, but the touch of your real skin would have been too much to handle for the humble I.
You are my long exile, I see you from afar, I see your name popping up online, the silouhette of the letters composing it are gently taunting me. (Gently? It sounds wrong… is it even the proper term? « Let’s gently invade Iraq! » nope, doesn’t fit. « The Iron Maiden was an instrument of torture invented to gently pierce the bodies of its victims » still doesn’t work. Gently isn’t the right term… ) And I look at your name, unable to decide whether I’m worthy of even beholding the magic letters.
Sometimes I read what you write to other girls and it makes me laugh, jealousy has no grasp on the love I harbour in my bosom. I never thought you would be mine and mine only, you were never mine to be to begin with. We should never have « met » not even in the obscure corridors of cyberspace, whatever I got from you was a present from life, an extra, I had to take all I could get, it wasn’t meant to be, karma had forgotten me for some time.
There was a time you would find me amiable, interesting; there was a time you would answer me, and then a time you would grant me some minutes of your time. I knew you weren’t eager to speak to me anymore, I wasn’t deluded and knew that you were far from looking forward to chatting with me. It didn’t matter, I was playing against time, I knew that it was counted.. Karma would wake up and remember me. Taking everything I could get, before it was too late..
Sometimes I still write you a message, pretending that my time isn’t out, modern-day equivalent of a bottle to the sea and I know that the Ocean of your indifference for me is endless. But I regret nothing
I remember when I never met you…
One day karma took you from me, and you ceased answering, and you quit caring and I understood that the dream was over, that there was no going back. And I did nothing wrong, it was simply not meant to be.
How many times did we speak? Seven times! Holy number, holy minutes stolen right from Eternity.
And you will never answer me. On the walls of the prison cells that my love for you has become, I write compulsively your name but this name never crosses the threshold of my lips. Who am I to take the Lord’s name in vain? To pollute it with my breath?
I wish you had let me meet you, not that I would have kissed or touched you – it doesn’t even happen in my wildest dreams- but it would have made my sorrow a bit less pathetic, a bit more legitimate, at least it would be a cute story to tell. But I am in love with someone I have never met, I am worshipping someone whose mere existence I cannot confirm. I guess it must be what it feels like to have faith, I must be a believer since my God is indifferent to my prayers.
I’ll go back on okcupid, chatting with other strangers saying the things you never said to me, complimenting me, I’ll have a pale smile on my face, I’ll read their lines with a growing sense of despair. They’ll be intelligent, funny and handsome.I’ll hate them for not being you.
I make the same foolish vow everyday, not to behold your pictures. I invariably fail at it, breaking my vow 15 times a day. who knew failure could look so handsome?
I cannot flatter myself with the thought that you played with my heart. What kind of person would play with such an unchallenging game? Certainly not you. I was lucky enough to cross your path, nevermind it was just virtual.
I miss you ever since I met you for I never met you my dear
Long gone the hope, the illusions , my love is all the more sincere
I appear to find myself in a most unpleasant state in which your exquisite, pulchritudinous and elegantly bespectacled presence represents, I am afraid, a significant part of my welfare.
Words fail me and I would make a poor use of my time attempting to describe the intensity of the grief that befell me, upon witnessing your departure.
Had I been impudent, I would never cease to mention how unfortunate it is for an alleged time-traveller such as yourself to be devoid of any capacity to actually take me with
you to a time and place where we, oh bless, could enjoy each other’s company. Alas, I am ceaselessly reminded that your time travelling feats are, hitherto but of sartorial nature and that my current task is to learn the difficult skill to live where you are not.
Sir, do not be mistaken by my partially saddened tone which, albeit genuine is only the expression of the deepest feelings you arouse in me, for I know I shall rejoice, confident that the woe caused by your leave-taking shall soon be matched and superseded by the delirious elation I will feel upon meeting you again.
No term of endearment could possibly do you justice and I remain deeply aware of the unmatched privilege that it is to miss you in such a sweet fashion.
Please, be ensured that you are my endless source of earthly delight and heavenly joy and that where you stand in my heart, you shall never find any rival