Mompou

 

Days without numbers like childhood keep time

and days will expand with experiments

explode like city lights, limitless sounds

high notes with clashing chords, riotous trills.

But safer still in wafer thin listens

days learn the hard beauty of quiet,

return into suburbs, well-known corners

streets where the old tunes become the new tunes

footpaths of footfalls, soft beat, newfound skip

putting behind them old melancholies

knowing of conversing there’s not much time,

and that much more that cannot be played out

is said in silence in wild countrysides

without borders, suburbs without number.