Sunken Oboe

                    Grasping pain delay your favour

                    in this my hour of desired abandon

                    An oboe coldly syllables

                    delight of timeless leaves,

                    not mine ,and forgets:

                    In me Evening is falling;

                    it is waterset

                    on my grassy hands

                    wings flit in a limp sky

                    trembling; the heart

                    migrates,

                    leaving me fallow,

                    and my days, rubble.

Quasimodo - 1965

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