Waltz For Zizi
A Place To Rest My Heart, In Your Deep Grave
In my palm I've crushed a lot of hearts
because none was like yours.
None of them, had freckles
like the moon, and like you.
But I do not dare laugh, or even smile,
for I truly regret, being like you.
Because I loved you so much
I tried to mimic you, to be you.
To love me, and I brought a lot of stars
from the sky, to the ground.
But it was useless, because you hate yourself,
and therefor, you hate me too.
One day, I'll have them dance on my grave,
to make things even, between them and me.
And now I ask you, my blonde november,
the only one that broke me inside:
Will you be kind to offer me, not your lips,
but a place to rest my heart, in your deep grave?
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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William Butler Yeats
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