wb :

“For who art thou mourning?” the western wind whispered
To me while I sat on the rolling green grass;
And day took its wings, and then nightfall had landed,
When I saw the answer, the answer at last;

The spring and the summer, the river rebirthing
Was parched from the toils of the land it had passed;
But there in the river was blood that was flowing,
When I saw the answer, the answer at last.

The autumn and winter, Demeter’s lamenting
Was warmed by the cold that the streetlights did cast;
And there on the trees, not a flower was blooming,
When I saw the answer, the answer at last.

The forests of green, and the rivers of azure
Had faded to memory, a faraway lust;
And all was just grey, where I once saw the colour,
When I saw the answer, the answer at last.

And streetlights were burning in somber resplendence,
The blinding bright beams, and my limbs they held fast;
And there sat my body, in bitter despondence,
When I saw the answer, the answer at last.

For Death and for Dying my heart then was bleeding,
The garden of green in a city of dust;
The last of the life in dystopia undying,
When I saw the answer, the answer at last.

Imperator Sancti, you know of my weeping,
O tell me; I know not the beautiful past;
And say why before me was just a grey ceiling
When I saw the answer, the answer at last?

Labels: poetry