Forcing a Dismembered Carcass to Speak

the winter sunset, 

flaming beyond spires and chimneys 

half-detached from this dull sphere,

(witness the world 

how worthy to be praised)

opens great gates 

to some forgotten year

of elder splendours and 

divine desires.

(twilight and evening bell,

and after that the dark.

I smile, of course, 

and go on drinking tea.)

and silent answers 

crept across the stars,

there, in a dream-plagued childhood, 

quite alone

I used to go, 

where night reigned 

vague and black, 

wandering companionless 

among the stars 

that have a different birth.

after such knowledge,

what forgiveness?

the slaughter 

never ends.

how many deaths 

shall serve to break at last

this heritage 

which wraps me 

in the grey apparel of ghosts?

I have been one acquainted with the night.

bom do dee 

bom do

dee bom bom 

bom ba do-dee.

the white breast 

of the sea-lark twitters 

sweet.