Das Gedicht hat eine schöne Ergänzung erhalten <img src="http://mockinbird.bei.t-online.de/smilies/yes.gif" border="0">
Eating Strawberries in the Necropolis
Suppose I had ridden
naked in the Garden in the cavalcade of men
astride a sardonic gryphon, driving the roads
that wove among the dusty olive groves
and coming out on the final commanding miles
across the straight to Carmona, my companions
jouncing on leopards and dromedaries and stallions,
chimaeras and unicorns, into an afternoon sun
hung low on the blinding horizon, under
the hieratic frown of stork and peacock,
metallic dazzles flashing off the trucks,
my thighs hot on the creatures flanks
as I drove the Roman road to the rock
where Man had watched, lord of the wilderness.
Suppose I had ridden
naked all night in the Garden of Delights,
ridden around the water where the women
parleyed with ravens and egrets, ridden
till morning stood like a tree at the window,
and, waking, wanted you.
What else would I do
but walk to the poppied necropolis and sit
on a wall in the shade of the cypresses,
eating strawberries from a paper bag.
The flesh was tender, red as cactusflower.
The juices bled to stain the imperial dust.
(Michael Hulse)
Vielen lieben Dank
<img src="http://images.rapidforum.com/designs/yabb/kiss.gif" border="0">
Anmelden
FAQ
Suche
