onsdag 25. desember 2013

The Gypsy Nun... Silence of lime and myrtle. Mallows in the fine grasses. With the nun embroiders wallflowers on straw cloth. In the grey chandelier seven prism-birds fly...


The church growls in the distance,
like a bear on its back.
How well she embroiders with that 
grace !


On the straw cloth
she would like to embroider
the flowers on her fantasy.
What a sunflower !
what a magnolia of sequins
and ribbons !

Think ...
What crocuses and what moons
on the altar-cloth of mass !
Five grapefruit's sweeten
in the nearby kitchen.
The five wounds of Christ
picket in the Holy land.
Through the nun's eyes
two horsemen gallop.


A last muffled murmur
undoes her blouse
and while she looks at hills
and clouds in the rigid distance,
her heart of sugar and lemon
verbena breaks.

Oh !
What a steep plain
with twenty suns up above.
What standing rivers her
fantasy glimpses !

But she goes on with her flowers,
while,
standing in the breeze,
light plays chess
high in the lattice...


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