Poems (Bibesco)/XIII Revenge

​
XIII REVENGE
"Yes, she is deadAnd what more can be said?"Those were the words you left for me to useBut I refuse—Proudly you ask to beKept in simplicity.Only—revenge is mine—I'll kill you with a shrine,Festooned with all the gleaming words that hideYour meaning and offend your pride.You see, I'm still your thief,A beggar of belief.And I can steal from youA million lies made true.
She was so beautiful! If you must knowHer body darted, but her smile was slow,Her eyes dissolved into a hidden glow,A burning lining of eternal snow.You who liked words untrimmed and stark and plain,Who really thought that vanities were vain, ​Where is it now, your proud austerity?Your frugal folly of virginity?You are no longer free, for you belongTo every lilting cadence of my song.You, who despised the fripperies of rhyme,Who flouted space, and disregarded time,Who thought each lovely folly was a crime—Unlit, implacable and yet sublime!
Now that you're dead, now I can warm you withThe glowing weavings of a gleaming myth;Into your peace I'll plunge a thousand swordsOf burning phantasies and coloured words.I'll show no mercy now that you are mine,Your very self dissolved in my design.
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.