Wait just a moment longer
before you cast me out
to the edges of your
palms and glances.
This way you'll leave me my
dreams—
those still
without end or resolution—
let me brush
with a trembling toe
the mouths
of Vesuvian peaks,
chimney smoke,
then fly away again
down into the valley
where daylight
never penetrates,
where only the North Star
sows scant light.
There I'd wait till dawn
for a skylark
to carry me softly back to the sky.
But no...
Onto my palm
white
light
fell only a feather.
Floating—
with which I write
wings for thoughts
and a supporting neck
you could greedily clutch.
Now,
eyes like a key,
my soul
won't be buried in false earth,
imprisoned in Earth's domain.
My body?
I'll give it to you
for free—
you'll only have to bear it to the pyre,
to groaning kindling.
Kommentaare ei ole:
Postita kommentaar