Parnassus Again

The color was tired Of variegation, Calliope’s sad wing Was lowered, But like my cactus At its eighth year, The words, at night, Calmly flowered. The vein is startled By the purple pulse, Ink-colored became My sadness. Years ago, I had Such a feeling – The feeling so airy And stainless… Sweetly sing The heavenly virgins, Pleasant to ear Are the rows of rhymes. The sisters from Parnassus Wave to me Their curly plaits, And ring the chimes. *** The speechless astronomer Mustn’t aim His telescope At the rhymes; All the words Do hit the target, Grief eats out The heart in no time… 22.03.2008.