Wednesday, June 4, 2008

To Aphrodite

Imitate an earthen jar
and siphon off this heat
in me, my makeshift oars
are burned alive.
Impenetrable me,
corruptible, though
and something died
nearby.

Oh rage, oh rage
the sea, the sea,
such fire has overtaken (me?)
What childish dream,
what fool's delight
have brought me here
to this! Delight in
yours, delight in mine,
delight and suffering,
pain and wine.
Oh muse, oh tempered chain,
now hold this Fenris maw
from thee.

What wretched blind shell would
bear thy weight?
What bird to trumpet sound
and 'cite my hate?
What dire shore to welcome
you dark tread?
What wind to fan your hair
about your head?

Oh why would you know me?
How merciless your whim!
Upon your face, my blindness!
Upon your conscience, then?

Upon your breast, upon your hand,
upon your very first step's sand,
A curse, a plague, a gout, a blight
on each and everyone whose sight
befalls the misfortune of your eye
and dies to himself, sigh after sigh!

Take back your radiance!
Take your pride!
Take your fairness!
Take your lies!

For all your worth, all of it stored
within this heart has gone, is gone.

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