Dilemma

(Found here)

You asked me if you should still go adventuring
For more beauty, new lands, strange faces,
For other moons and suns over other cities
And seas and forests you have never beheld;
Or whether you should sit down quietly
And con over all you have gathered,
Fingering your memories, counting your spoils,
Letting each day pass without comment
Indistinguishably—a day only, a passage of hours,
Without one blood-beat of discovery or pain.

How could I answer in words?
In any case I am sick of words and talk.
So I drew you silently to the window
Opening upon the spring twilight.
There was a deep orange overglow from the sun,
And a young moon with a star in her hand;
The last swifts dashed screaming over the roofs,
While the first bats swerved noiselessly across the square;
There was a murmur of talk and of moving feet
As people strolled and met after work;
A peasant’s cart went by with a man driving
And a girl holding a candle in a paper shade,
And someone played a mandoline.

Were you answered? I do not know,
For after a long silence you spoke of other things.
But I do not know any other silence to give you.

~Richard Aldington