Categories > Anime/Manga > Princess Tutu
Tonight I Can Write
1 reviewWhen Fakir decides to end it all.. A poem fic for FakirxAhiru. Oneshot.
2Ambiance
Tonight I Can Write
Disclaimer: Pablo Neruda wrote this poem entitled "Puedo Escribir Los Versos Mas Triestes Esta Noche" originally in Spanish and was translated later on. I don't own it nor do I own Princess Tutu myself, unfortunately.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
He sat there as he watched a little duck swim across the lake. The moon reflected in the water and the cool breeze hit his face. It had been five months after they've defeated the Evil Raven; five months after she'd turned back into a duck.
Write for example, The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
The duck must have noticed him staring at her because she stopped what she was doing and cocked her head to one side as if trying to read his thoughts. Fakir just looked on, urging the duck to resume what she had been doing. But she didn't, and instead she stretched out her wings and beckoned him to dance with her.
"How silly, dance with a duck?" he scoffed.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
/I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too./
Ignoring what he'd just said, he stood up and accepted her hand. She was looking calmly at him with a smile as bright as always. He tried to look too, but found that he could not. He couldn't look into her eyes and not feel guilty.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
/To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her./
He spun her, quite abruptly, and she tripped on water. He laughed which made her face flush with embarrassment; she didn't want to go on but he still held her wing. She had no choice but to continue.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
/And the verse falls to the soul like dews to the pasture./
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
They danced under the starry sky accompanied by the music of the cool breeze. He held her in his arms, gently, as not to hurt her fragile body.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
/My heart looks for her, and she is not with me./
This time he looked into her still, blue eyes, shining under the glow of the moonlight, all the while holding onto her tiny figure. He swore that this was the last time that he would take her to the lake like this. Never again is he going to do this.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
/Love is short, forgetting is so long./
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
/my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her./
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
/and these the last verses that I write for her. /
Tonight as she waddles her way to her tiny nest and sleeps, he sits at his desk and writes.
-Fin-
Disclaimer: Pablo Neruda wrote this poem entitled "Puedo Escribir Los Versos Mas Triestes Esta Noche" originally in Spanish and was translated later on. I don't own it nor do I own Princess Tutu myself, unfortunately.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
He sat there as he watched a little duck swim across the lake. The moon reflected in the water and the cool breeze hit his face. It had been five months after they've defeated the Evil Raven; five months after she'd turned back into a duck.
Write for example, The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
The duck must have noticed him staring at her because she stopped what she was doing and cocked her head to one side as if trying to read his thoughts. Fakir just looked on, urging the duck to resume what she had been doing. But she didn't, and instead she stretched out her wings and beckoned him to dance with her.
"How silly, dance with a duck?" he scoffed.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
/I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too./
Ignoring what he'd just said, he stood up and accepted her hand. She was looking calmly at him with a smile as bright as always. He tried to look too, but found that he could not. He couldn't look into her eyes and not feel guilty.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
/To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her./
He spun her, quite abruptly, and she tripped on water. He laughed which made her face flush with embarrassment; she didn't want to go on but he still held her wing. She had no choice but to continue.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
/And the verse falls to the soul like dews to the pasture./
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
They danced under the starry sky accompanied by the music of the cool breeze. He held her in his arms, gently, as not to hurt her fragile body.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
/My heart looks for her, and she is not with me./
This time he looked into her still, blue eyes, shining under the glow of the moonlight, all the while holding onto her tiny figure. He swore that this was the last time that he would take her to the lake like this. Never again is he going to do this.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
/Love is short, forgetting is so long./
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
/my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her./
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
/and these the last verses that I write for her. /
Tonight as she waddles her way to her tiny nest and sleeps, he sits at his desk and writes.
-Fin-
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