#297 Lamplight (Sally Thomas)

Tengo una cierta obsesión con las luces de las casas en la noche. Siempre que camino por la noche en el vecindario me invade una cierta melancolía. Pero ¿y mi casa? ¿Mi propia luz de adentro? 

Es lo que me encanta de este poema. Que pone ese asombro, eso que tanto me gusta, ante mis ojos, ante mi puerta, dentro de casa. Esta noche me voy a dar un paseo y al volver, I'll stand outside and wonder at that glow.

LAMPLIGHT

Having drawn the curtains, I stepped outside

And stood in the dark garden looking in-

Or not in, exactly. The curtains hid

Bookshelves, wardrobe, mirror, turned-back bed,

All the room's clear features. Still the linen

Leaked lamplight, a gold spill on the dry

Black stalks of black-eyed Susans beneath the window.

Behind its veil, the room shone privately

As with a happiness, a mystery to me.

I stood outside and wondered at that glow.

The night was huge around me, full of stars.

More light than theirs seemed hidden in that place,

Which looked at me, a masked, familiar face.

I looked back, night-veiled, strange, and out-of-doors.