Szilárd Borbély

[37] Allegory VI

Rain endures the longest,
and the thought
which will follow,
if it reaches an end.

Now only the tapping
on the eaves and streaks of water
on the pavement. The afternoon light
a thin layer of film

on the tree leaves, which
tinges them. The hues trickle like
watercolors, run together, they
smudge, follow the veins’ path.

Just as thought
finds words, the afternoon
falls, like a curtain,
after sleep the button

of the pillow leaving an imprint
on the body’s design,
as it presses into the skin.
Then come impressions,

like birds, as they slowly
oscillate, growing indistinct on the border
between the eye and the heavens.
For rain endures the longest.