It's Still Life

Lost in Paradise

Like a parched traveller who
comes out of the deep dust —
you laughed like bells ringing,
despite this bloody journey.
And I am an infernal silence.
Jaw. Set. Steel.
“Let’s go this way,” you say,
“an adventure at every corner.”
But there is just ever more
and ever more distance.
No rest. No streams that flow.
No clean mountain’s breath.
Lost. There is no more sport
in this leafy green.

Line 1 and 2 are from “The Georgics“ — book IV: 67-102 “Bees – The Fighting Swam”, by Virgil and translated from Latin into English by A. S. Kline. Written for Poetic Bloomings and Miz Quickly