Why do I melt silver in my poems?
Why do I nobly conjure on the vertebrae of beauty?
See, this is the breaking key. I carry truth in my blood like a complete rage,
pain I enter along the root of the wound,
goodness is purity upon my skin. And lying in the wide bed of the judges,
I play with light and darkness like with young lions,
until the caressing fingers of splendour
open like butterflies within me. Then my muscles are interwoven with silk
and my lips coated with closing silence.
I am raised on a sudden shield
and carried by silent slavesto the luminous island in the dark.
There I quiver and predict rest
and I rest there porously and in luster.
© Translation: 2000, Kendall Dunkelberg
From: Hercules, Richelieu and Nostradamus
Publisher: Green Integer, Los Angeles, 2000
Why do I melt silver in my poems?
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2 risposte a “Why do I melt silver in my poems?”
Rob Wood
A lovely poem. Heartfelt. Beautiful. Sensual. The contrast between “I carry truth in my blood” and the lines that follow touch me deeply. “I play with light and darkness like with young lions” and “….the caressing fingers of splendour open like butterflies within me” Superb interplay of passion and tenderness.! Thank you!
Rob
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Dear Rob, you seem truly passioned of poems. Let us know which are your favorite authors and we’ll take it in consideration for our further readings and publishing! Thanks again!