poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

The great man turns his back on the island.
Now he will not die in paradise
nor hear again
the lutes of paradise among the olive trees,
by the clear pools under the cypresses. Time

begins now, in which he hears again
that pulse which is the narrative
sea, ar dawn when its pull is stongest.
What has brought us here
will lead us away; our ship
sways in the tined harbor water.

Now the spell is ended.
Giove him back his life,
sea that can only move forward.

Added: 9 Jan 2002 | Last Read: 13 Feb 2012 3:11 AM | Viewed: 5265 times

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