now that the lilacs are in bloom
she has a bowl of lilacs in her room
and twists one in her fingers as she talks:
ah, my friend, you do not know
you do not know what life is
(slowly twisting the lilac stalk)
you let it flow from you, you let it flow
and youth is cruel and has no remorse
and smiles at situations which it cannot see.
i smile, of course, and go on drinking tea.
yet with these april sunsets that somehow recall
my buried life, and paris in the spring
i feel remarkably at ease
and find the world to be beautiful and youthful after all.