It seemed the kind of life we wanted.
Wild strawberries and cream in the morning.
Sunlight in every room.
The two of us walking by the sea naked.
Some evenings, however, we found ourselves
Unsure of what comes next.
Like tragic actors in a theater on fire,
With birds circling over our heads,
The dark pines strangely still,
Each rock we stepped on bloodied by the sunset.
We were back on our terrace sipping wine.
Why always this hint of an unhappy ending?
Clouds of almost human appearance
Gathering on the horizon, but the rest lovely
With the air so mild and the sea untroubled.
The night suddenly upon us, a starless night.
You lighting a candle, carrying it naked
Into our bedroom and blowing it out quickly.
The dark pines and grasses strangely still.
Charles Simic's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Clouds Gathering by Charles Simic )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Henry David Thoreau
(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862)
Poem of the Day
- Christmas Glow, Cigeng Zhang
- The Watchers, Aaryan Deshpande
- Not necessarily, hasmukh amathalal
- I embrace my pen, gajanan mishra
- Loveless Love, Paul Hartal
- But vicinty, hasmukh amathalal
- Past Writing, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Still Small Voice, Leong Ming Loong
- Gap and divide, hasmukh amathalal
- Love Is Hard, Is It Poetry