Sunday, March 29, 2015

The Chill of Death (A Poem out of Peru)


Oh, the winter is gone and spring has fled
And the nights are long and the days are lead!
And the rains are here and the skies are dead—
And the winds are blowing cold in Huancayo.
I am old and the Andean winds—hark!
To my tomb they howl and whoop…
Swoop dray dead leaves around my weak knees,
At my faintest breath: it all has the chill of death!
With a fistfuls of gust, they swerve with dust, —
Moan as I stand alone on my rooftop:
As the vultures in the evening sky fly low,
Over rooftops, toward the Lima coast, —
Looking here and there, but nowhere!
Oh, the winter is gone and spring has fled
And the nights are long and the days are lead
And my faintest breath has the chill of death.
And the winds are blowing cold in Huancayo.


No: 4741/3-29-2015