an impossible love
“It’s an impossible love” – you say to me.
“It’s an impossible love” – I say to you.
But you find that you smile when you look at me,
and I discover that I smile when I see you.
“At night” – you confess – “I think of you... I think of you day and night, and I wonder if you’re thinking of me while I think of you.
… Society, the rules, the duties... but you tremble when I hold your hands.”
“Better to be happy or better to be aligned?”
– I ask you. –
And your smile lights up the day, changing attire with every thought of mine.
“This love is possible” – I tell you.
“This love is possible” – you tell me.
Sextus Aurelius Propertius (Roman poet born in 47 BC)
born in Assisi, who knows what Assisi was like and yet in the forest that probably surrounded it, there was a Propertius in love...