I wonder if my rope’s still hanging from the tree
by the standing pool where you drank me
and filled me full of thirsty love
and the memory of water?
I wonder if a king still fishes there
his back towards the burned-out air
his laughing catches singing loud
the memory of water.
Your taste is blood and ecstasy
but I must drink you all alone.
You’re freckled like a speckled egg
a dove, but this bird has flown.
O stay with me sweet memory,
O stay with me.
I wonder if my rope’s still hanging from the tree
by the standing pool where you drank me,
as pain flows through me like champagne
of the memory of water.
(Marillion, da This Strange Engine, 1997)
Tag: eus voci, infralogie, sguardi, wor(l)ds