LENTO IN LEFT HAND
As a savored fruit with a smarting taste
comes a dream of these ardent orbs;
floating on Hadean water and ice—
swoons a crimson blossom of pomegranate.
The candle called in dark of night
radiance to light this torpid core;
dream-like, it vanished and left—
a heart of ashes, crumbled, burnt.
Vigil in dark with fading awe,
moonlight succors me in my room;
in quarter tones of Saba sings,
the early morning—breeze’s song.
Through the passing dreary days I dream,
of the flower-shoot\'s perpetual stand;
encircles me enticing death and calls
to a drunken dance in time’s womb.
Love that chokes like parching wind
inflames the heart on desire, dark—
brimming with fear and deep regret—
his own grave in reverie digs.
LEGATO IN RIGHT HAND
Disheartening sight of the bee\'s swirls:
on wings fluttering, in eager tenacity;
around and round the static stem—
yielding exhaust and nothing else.
Let him who on the hunt chases a prey,
deliberate misses his certain shot—
for who had tended the flower’s growth,
willingly deserted its final blossom!
Watch—this form of wax blooms in fire,
mid the dense mist on full-moon night;
I collect those abounding tear drops,
to water thy sere fading memories.
The fate’s blade lacerates the heart
of one who holds on its double edge—
for darts grudge with reproaching arrows—
yet had love-kissed the arrows’ tips.
Attuned I to this nightly vernal sob;
pleads a bloom of haunting beauty in,
airborne—suspended by wraiths of haze—
and aims its Altair arrow at me.
Who bears wisdom’s consuming flame;
the star lights the hush, starless air—
I verse and speak this godly power;
light mine! betake to the brazen tomb.
Soon the raptor ascends the sky—
keens my soul to keep her secrets;
refrains from using powers attained,
the iambus of Paros learned her once:
shall the verses kill with intentions;
written for one disowned holy wedlock.
When the bird that builds its warm nest
dreams to rear its tender chicks—
upon the grimness of fate\'s spoken word
sacrifices the weak-one in sure mercy?