Mijmeren, Vágyálom, Søvn, Quiesco, Kieuseru

  Break, break the glass, inside,
Inside, we are all so soft, make,
Make, a sky so crimson, watch,
Watch, the bodies adrift on the waters.

  The land is fallin’, faster and
faster, there on the pilaster, written
in blood: a prophecy of religious mud.

  Rake, rake, surrender to the breeze, warn,
Warn, this is the Ides of March, waive,
Waive, this is the newborn Caesar, wake,
Wake, the dreams are teeming with death.

  The water’s a’risin’, don’t be surpris’d,
Fortuna, thine name art mine, Goddess
of Luck—smilin’ like a dusty rock.

  Take, take, borrow the sun, weave,
Weave, her’s is the pricked fingers, wind,
Wind, her’s is the busy needle, tell,
Tell, can you hear the loom spinning?

  The tomb’s awaitin’ in Knossos, your
Highness, under the Tympanum is
where the ivy leaves whisper, “Soon, soon.”

  Forsaken generation, lost in contemplation,
Are we yet finished with the wheel?
Children of Socrates, Worshipers of Persephone,
Did you yet find the joy in your own eyes?

  An Age of Sparta, the Rebirth of Rome,
Float the Styx, two coins with Charon,
Eyes of Tiresis, Vision at Delphi,
Weighing the dead souls—
         Anubis, is it feather-light?