Poem 153 – What Could Compare to Those Eyes?

What could compare to those eyes,
So passionate, so dark?
How could I forget their touch
As they stared into my heart?
Even gripped by fever
Your eyes hang before mine,
Permanently present,
Emblazoned on my mind.

Why did I dare to compare my own,
So lifeless, almost dead,
To the orbs of finest ebony
You bear in that lovely  head?
I must have known it was foolish
To meet your loveless glance,
And yet I did, and it impales me,
As I step through my lonely dance.

I do not ask for your eyes,
To be compassionate, or fair,
Nor do I ask to see them
Beneath your flowing sable hair.
I only ask my goddess
That when those eyes next care
You let all of their radiance
Shine on the one who stands there.

***

Dear readers,

Today’s poem opens with a line from Puccini’s Tosca (The librettist escapes me) – ‘What could compare to those eyes/so compassionate, so dark?’. It is sung by the painter Cavaradossi as he persuades his lover, Tosca, that he is not betraying her. The following events are both tragic and filled with beautiful music. For UK readers, the Royal Opera House is doing a live broadcast on a number of big screens sometime in the next two weeks – I’d recommend it, it’s a fantastic cast and a beautiful production.

Kind regards,

The Hapless Neo-Romantic

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