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A Villanelle

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We talk about literature and its essence, trying to capture the inner secret of its Beauty and Truth. Here is a vain attempt to bridge interpretation and creativity. 

Villanelle for two

Somewhere in Drumcondra two are holding hands
Dancing in the orange light of silent streets
Nothing of themselves they do demand.

Only the sense of midnight pleasure to command
To roam the roads and their signs to read
Somewhere in Drumcondra two are holding hands.

Should they take a left or a right again?
It matters least, for of choice they felt all freed.
Nothing of themselves they do demand.

Rows of moonstruck houses their wary eyes do scan
'To be lost with you' is the essence of the creed.
Somewhere in Drumcondra two are holding hands.

It is what they do, it is what they can
To get entranced in a moment that should fleet.
Nothing of themselves they do demand.

To walk the streets and the hearts to mend
In night's secrecy they sometimes meet.
Somewhere in Drumcondra two are holding hands
Nothing of themselves they do demand.
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