It’s lovely here:
the sky is blossoming into
night;
it’s hard to believe
the close of day could be so
iridescent, wonderful.
It doesn’t matter that
I love you or
you love me;
the sun has not yet set,
but the moon lifts high upon the
silken skies:
and as you laugh,
creases form around your
molten eyes,
and I smile too.
No, nothing matters but this
lovely moment,
that I love you
and that you are here with me.
http://www.recmusic.org/lieder/get_text.html?TextId=5860
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
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One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.
- Emily Dickinson