quarta-feira, 16 de junho de 2010

To Apollo

He went in a rustle of stone robes
he cast a shadow a glow of laurels

his breaths were light as a statue's
but his movements like a flower's

rapt by the sound of his own song
he raised a lyre to the height of silence

immersed in himself
his pupils white as a stream

from his sandals
to the ribbons in his hair

I imagined your fingers
had faith in your eyes
the unstrung instrument
the arms without hands

give me back
youth's shout
arms held out
and my head
in an immense crest of delight

give me back my hope
speechless white head

silence -
a fissured neck
silence -
a broken song

Zbigniew Herbert, The Collected Poems 1956 - 1998, Alissa Valles, Ecco, 2007

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