|
|
Being Beauteous
Against a snow, a high-statured Being of Beauty.
Whistlings of death and circles of hollow music
make this adored body rise, enlarge, and tremble
like a ghost. Black and scarlet wounds burst in
the superb flesh. The true colors of life deepen,
dance, and disengage around the Vision in the
making. Shudders rise and rumble, and the mad
flavor of these effects takes on the mortal
whistling and the raucous music which the world,
far behind us hurls at our mother of beauty, -
She recoils, she rears up. Oh! Our bones are
clothed in an amorous new body.
* * * * * * * *
O the ashen face, the horsehair crest, the
crystal arms! The cannon against which I must
throw myself in the skirmish of trees and light
air. |
| |
| Impressum, Disclaimer und Datenschutz |
|
|
