Cantlets
The wind is blowing. In my blooming field
fragrant! So, I said, My heart be steady
my solitude blossoms latent to yield
a Sunday noon, dim oracle it was and shady
A lonely song cries, in the wind, I said,
brings a murmurous voice, she comes lithe,
and I respond, it is a feast, my timid wed,
my loneliness, loving was a Hades scythe.
I kindly my wrists, I said, I kindly offer,
to a deity that stares, that stares iced
in Hades, my life then will belong to her,
pastoral, lifeless I 'll wonder and demised.
So, I said, to mountains and clear springs,
I wanted to be free, with her to away fly,
a sempiternal wedding not to accept or rings
not to connect our destinies and see her cry.
I 'll be alone, my soul, I said, I 'll stay
next to melodic flowing sweetest rivulets
next to the greenest field I saw her sway
amid angelic voices, our house's cantlets.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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