Monday, December 27, 2010

Black XVII

All drawings untitled 2004

But you, divine one, you resounding to the end.
When attacked by the swarm of rejected maenads,
gorgeous god, you drowned out their shrieks with order,
the architecture of your song rose from the destroyers.

Not one of them could crush your head or lyre,
despite their wrestling and raging;
and touching you, all the sharp rocks they fired
at your head turned tender, gifted with hearing.

Ravaged by vengeance, at last they broke and tore you.
But the echo of your music lingered
in rocks and lions, trees and birds. You still sing there.

Oh you lost god! You everlasting clue!
Because hate finally dismembered, scattered
you, now we're merely nature's mouth and ears.
(Sonnets to Orpheus: First Series)