Twenty-four hours
She loves me, she loves me not (originally "effeuiller la marguerite" in French)
The first hour is sweet,
a sweet delight for my eyes
Seeing through the glimmer of a reflection
When the sun has just risen.
*
Until the twentieth hour, everything blends together
Emotion, doubt, and insomnia
It's like a daisy being stripped of its leaves
A little, a lot, passionately, madly.
*
For the next three hours, a forgotten leaf
It lay there on his flushed cheek
This Marguerite is suddenly transformed into a rose
There's nothing I can do about it, I suppose.
*
Twenty-four hours into the starry night
A shooting star has just lit up
I make a vow to no longer be afraid,
And that all these hours will fade away.
About the Creator
Tony Herlin
A dreamer who neither speaks nor writes English, a difficult but highly instructive exercise. (Please accept my apologies for any inconvenience caused).
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