Ascetic Man
Ascetic man awaits for me, in granite crags
his narrow cave, and bellicose to askance,
I enter; am I deceived from his aquiline nose?
odor of earth as he 's besmeared by crows.
A Holy man in front of me, starts to berate,
and laughs! Birds sing a mountain aubade,
Indigenous, gray crags, with an autocrat,
a radiative beneficence, from an autodidact,
ember-eyes, flames to denounce and enact.
My soul 's confused and binded; an uproar,
betimes I feel this is, angel and a spool, I soar,
the old one smiles; a lighthearted wild grin,
avuncular's benevolence and incense therein.
Amid in the dim air he suspends; Corybantic,
he sparkles, scintillates, emits flashes frantic,
his counter-transference; avidly his gnome,
'Are you Nymphed? Nymphs are box-comb'
'Alluring are, appealing, desirable and pleasant,
Abhorrent! Atrocious, despicable, repugnant! '
He jumps up and starts to dance, drawing in air
with a stick, how grody, odious and hateful,
Nymphs are! He dances spitting thrice fateful;
He jumps, my eyes are smiling, his weazen face
invites airy Cherubims to accompany his pace,
dandles his body without wings to lightly sway,
darkling in air slowly, he flies away!
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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