Nowhere to Fly*

Nowhere to Fly

 

(Last Days in New York)

 

The autumn air is cruel tonight;

A frost lies on the grass,

 

A gibbous moon

Peeps on the path,

As my slow footsteps pass

 

A true farewell is kept within,

As leaving is a mix of wounded words

And broken bonds arriving cannot fix

 

A dog is barking in the woods;

The stars are small and gray,

And though they shine,

They seem to shrink,

 

And would no longer stay.[1]

 

A thrush is clinging to a reed;

She has nowhere to fly,

And I am turning

From her gaze -

 

I cannot say goodbye.

---

[1] To Paris, love had value only if it is eternal. And from what he could tell, everything in the physical world, including love, has a beginning and an end. Thus, the poet came to reject the idea that God is ascendant in the material realm, concluding that if there is a supernatural being in charge of earthly affairs, he is none too nice. Indeed, such a being guarantees a life of constant heartbreak. To Paris, the observable realities of the physical world suggest the predominance of demiurgic forces more than they do random occurrences or a kindly love god.