Sirens Harp
Our long roads to faraway, but not to safety
fair in advance, a violent gain, of our eternity,
there, we seek our childhood's white clouds,
why ocean-paths are ornaments of shrouds?
So you ask me, glorious beauty, to adore,
of lone paths you have chosen, way before,
years to guide us back, to opaline nacreous
darkened mislays, of my strength ominous.
Shrills of Ghosts belt down anything gleaming,
or hopes, to dusk in dreams again, dimming,
to abate in Stygian trips, a devoid emptiness,
consent Styx darkness, renounce brightness.
Pearlescent were our trips, along Milky ways,
beaming in ocean paths, our childhood bays,
in Stygian dew, how unassailable they will be,
even from us! and decorate a dim Sirens' glee.
And then you escort an illusion in Star quays,
again, your faraway projection, entirely stays,
within Utopian hopes to embrace a lone ghost
reverberant will be, sailing lonely to foremost.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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