IV
The young poet now enters with
the skylark of his vision with
the red rose of his feelings with
the chalice of his tribute; having drunk
sunlight from the bubbling little creek
and ready to give all as always
he hopes for a faint glance
into the foggy tomorrows
perhaps beyond the itchy hands of death.
The young poet appears now with
the divine invocation of his spirit
with the wishful hope of his heart.
Perhaps this divine invocation
perhaps the whisper of the mistral
can colour the cyclamens more red
than his blood; perhaps this effort
will replace futility with a gleaming
purpose, perhaps this invocation will
reverse the results of the ape’s
maimed mind; the young poet enters now
and records the overhanging mourning
of the willow and the tender touch of
the white jasmine flower on the Kore’s lips.
Libros Libertad 