Light the fires oh monk
burn, burn what you burn
is all in vain; from the ashes
of your fire the golden eagle
of the mind rises and spreads
its wide wings high up
toward the light
and you oh philosopher, create
the polytheistic religion,
take names from the ancients
the mysteries of the Chaldean
all your creations, in vain!
All you build is but a grave
all white, grand and solemn
and what shivers slowly over it
just the shadow of a tree
of that of a vampire.
Neither Sparta, nor Athens
not even the Great Polis.
Athens got poisoned by
a Hebrew woman from
the midst of Gethsemane.
Where is Sparta? I know
nothing of it. I know
Mystras. And the world
famous Polis under the Turks.
Libros Libertad 