Arcanum
I placed my hand in the ancient gate.
My iron play their
undressed age and forging his Arabic,
bit of time moaning its hinges, and remains, open.
I entered the courtyard - gray and pink stone - where time
put his patina
arcana (the source was silent a string of pearls
breaking at the metal water lily).
On the cold stone bench rusty,
attached to the granite arms of an ancient sword
ivy - rust glorious -
her red painted on the gray stone.
With trembling hand I took, taken, and I wanted to boot it
its canopy of mold
- suddenly in the sky, horrible crash
announces tremendous storm mode - Presto and
hand withdrew fearing gun lying, and raised my eyes;
and at the sight of the glittering sky
by divine wrath, I fell down on his knees. **********
1964
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