Francesca da Rimini by Semen Kirsanoff

Ksey_Gan

                                                           I go

                                                         in hell.

                                                         Roads -

                                                         to dens,

                                                  swamps, gorges

                                                  of bribes, revenge.

                                                Dug into quagmires

                                          up to the neck in terza rima,

                                                 lips rubbery parted,

                                                   some die of thirst,

                                           having drunk blood once.

                                  Horrible cuts, wounds, mutilations,

                                           in the cracks human slurry.

                                Criminated shadows scream, crippled:

                                                calm, stop our bleeding,

                       we are drowning, we scream, we crowd in gorges,

                           to you, on earth, we come and are dreamed of.

                               Higher, spirally their bodies, moaning, rush,

                      praying for respite, in vain, no, they will not be saved.

                                      The fiery wind whirls and spins lovers,

                        sticking together in twos, in vain they ask for death.

                            After them! I rush to their circle pierced by pain,

                               hoping to notice my dear friend among them.

                            Flashed. Is it she? Alone? Her half-closed eyelids?

                           And with whom, in torment, did she intertwine and,

                                                 loving, stick together forever?

 

                      Francesca? She? Yes, Rimini? Now I know: she deceived!

                             To another, yearning, she clung with a painful kiss.

                              I remembered: he was my friend, a reliable servant,

                                    he carried a train with lace, like a page, for you.

                                I see: we are two in bed, and secretly he is between.

                                     Kill? We are in hell. Leave hope at the entrance!

                                                        Oh, my merciless daily torture!

                                                 I watch, condemned to eternal jealousy.

                                                      I am jealous, doomed to fly closely,

                                                to inhale their perfume, to listen to the kiss.

                                                         The wind, merciless to the sinner,

                                                          spins me like a top behind them

                                                           and drags me to their dark bed,

                                                            and rubs me against their skin,

                                                                        touches are burns!

                                                                      There is no way back

                                                                       in the swirling swarm.

                                                                                         two

                                                                           are punished too.

                                                                            the It hurts, God!

                                                                          Torment, torment!

                                                                           Where is the way

                                                                                        back?

                                                                                       Here is

                                                                                          hell. 

  • Author: Ksey_Gan (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 20th, 2025 02:51
  • Category: Spiritual
  • Views: 4
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Comments +

Comments1

  • sorenbarrett

    Here hell is evident in the burning of conscience the fires of jealousy memory and guilt. The format seemed strange at first as if a candle flame of a decent. This poem is raw and in first person making it more emotional. Very powerful.



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