Homesickness

If we part our ways, I will always keep looking for you wherever I go.
I wonder if you think about me as much as I think about you.
Often feeling empty, a deep void that can’t let me sleep.
I cannot deny that your absence made me feel lost yet not for the first time.

While walking in the streets, I feel I keep hallucinating,
The fair and precise resemblance of your face,
Short hairs covering half eye and every scar that you kept secret,
All comes into life, so to remind me, this is not you.

I wouldn’t want to runaway from my thoughts alone,
If only you could leave me entirely, if only I would let you go.
It is painful, but it tastes like freshly brewing nostalgia with every sunset,
A homesickness that is beyond repair.

~Navaparna

Day 6 of Na/GloPoWriMo 2023.

Prompt 6 source: https://www.napowrimo.net/poets-start-your-engines/
Today’s (optional) prompt is again drawn from our archives, and builds off our daily resource. Take a look around Poetry International for a poem in a language you don’t know. For example, I grabbed this one in Finnish by Olli Heikkonen. Now, read the poem to yourself, thinking about the sound and shape of the words, and the degree to which they remind you of words in your own language. Use those correspondences as the basis for a new poem.

For today’s prompt I have no idea what my poem seems like. It is just so totally different than that of the prompt’s directed poem, but for my today’s muse I have chosen- Demain, dès l’aube by Victor Hugo. I was deeply attached with this poem after I read the translation, it has left me emotional for an hour now. I have realised, both the poems does have some kind of similarity, not in the structure but perhaps the deep rooted attachment, silent emotions, some unrecovered loss and the strong memory that leads to nostalgia.

Demain, dès l’aube

Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne,
Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attends.
J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne.
Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.

Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées,
Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit,
Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées,
Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit.

Je ne regarderai ni l’or du soir qui tombe,
Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur,
Et quand j’arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe
Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur.

Picture credit- Pinterest

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