The prelude was short.
I say I am going to die in your hands.
What Akhmatova will say?
I solemnly declare, my
date has arrived. I want to give, one
by one piece of my body to each vulture.
A voice zooms. What do
you do? You want to drink blood, or venom,
or hemlock given to Socrates?
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: August 4th, 2021 19:34
- Category: Nature
- Views: 21
- User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments1
from Muse, by Anna Akhmatova
What just means liberty, or youth, or approbation,
When compared with the gentle piper's tread?
And she came in, threw out the mantle's edges,
Declined to me with a sincere heed.
I say to her, "Did you dictate the Pages
Of Hell to Dante?"
(and so, I too ask you: Guru
Do you dictate, your Visionary pages
akin to Grecian Oracle: truth's...?)
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