The Nakedness of Truth (I know it well)

Paul Eluard

 Next Poem          

Despair has no wings,
Nor has love,
No countenance:
They do not speak.
I do not stir,
I do not behold them,
I do not speak to them,
But I am as real as my love and my despair.

Next Poem 

 Back to Paul Eluard

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.