Captive To Your Love

If I look at the sky,
I see You there, playing with angels.
So many angels out there,
but you the sweetest, the brightest.

If I look at the crystal moon,
I see you there.
Looking at me, you smile.

Then, your lips move, you whisper.
But I can't hear. Nothing can I hear.
Keen to hear you, I ask loud-
"What? What you say? "

Your lips moving. I clearly see.
I certainly know, they are for me.
They, have to be for me.
Yet, I can't hear you. I can't hear you at all.
Emptiness entangles my heart,
agony agonizes my abandoned soul.

You remember? It's three years, you are gone!

See, how fast time flows!
All flow, all flow so fast!

All, but my heart, my soul.
They are still captive to your love.

Would my heart be free ever?
Would my soul part from you ever?

May be, they don't want to be free!
May be, they don't "Love" to be free!
They love the pain, engraved in your smiling face,
sculpted in your intoxicating grace.

May be,
pain is sweeter than honey!
May be,
freedom is not as free as captivity!

Who knows?
Would it really matter, if I know?
I would still open my window tomorrow.
I would still look for "You" tomorrow.
I would still feel, my heart aches in sorrow.

And "You"?
You would still be there,
looking at me, smiling.


See, all flow, all flow so fast!
All, but my heart, my soul.
They are still captive to your love.

© Arun Maji
Painting: Eugene De Blaas

by Arun Maji

Comments (5)

morning hits all, really good one..
And my arms are held out toward you, It's today I love you. i think the persona had always in love but that he or she had to declare it no matter what. I like the poem.
Among green vines with the mus eof life. Nice work.
The joy of love after it has started makes the poet say all he feels joyous in the morning before his vine garden house!
I have a photocopy of a book publication of this particular translation from the original French. It is by Ron Padgett, and is probably the best known if not the only available English translation. Reverdy lived from 1889-1960, and was often called a 'cubist' poet, though he disavowed the label, calling it a 'ridiculous term'. (See Richard L. Admussen's 1969 essay 'Nord-Sud and Cubist Poetry.' It's a shame there's only one of his poems posted. Maybe I'll add more if my habitual laziness abates sometime.