Ballade Of The Hours Of Darkness Poem by Gert Strydom

(after N.P. van Wyk Louw)

Our love did wither like a flower,
with the morning-light came silently to an end
and this morning we both are without words
as we do not really know each other.

Where we had been deeply involved in bodily pleasure
we are estranged and blunt with each other
and the emotions that were overwhelming
they now are stripped and bankrupt from love

and last night desire did burn in us both
with a tingling in your hand
when it was soft and vulnerable in mine
and your smile was luring and forward,

your eyes the brightest blue
and when I did hold you closer
there had been something that I could not place
when you spilled wine on my shirt

and now that it's the new morning
you are much prettier than in the darkness of last night
but that which had been between us is past
and now carries no meaning

and only the smells of love and whiskey does linger
where the sun radiates brightly into your kitchen
and with you here in your own home
I feel redundant, unwelcome and lost.

Our love with the morning-light came silently to an end,
did wither like a flower,
as we do not really know each other
and this morning we both are without words.


[Reference: "Ballade van die nagtelike ure" (Ballade of the nightly hours) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]