wolf spirit

“Before me things created were none, save things
Eternal, and eternal I endure.
All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”
― Dante Alighieri

“Jewels of the World

Memory

Where everything gains,
Where everything is lost,
Where light sleeps and
Darkness reins.

Memory

A footstep washed away,
An impression saved.
Where time knows no boundaries
and washes away.

Memory

A foreign thought
A forged lie,
A deformed way that
Can’t be bought.

Memory

A slipped flash,
Gone forever from mentality,
Encased in darkness and is
Nothing but a dash-

Memory

Compressed to specifics,
Denied of choice,
Of grace,
Left to the efficient.

Memory

An expectation of retrospect,
Penetrating mentality
And asking only
for respect.

Memory

Like the evening pond,
Encasement of treasures
to be held with care,
Before they are gone.

Memory

Something to be kept,
Never to be borrowed
Or stolen,
Or even to be met”
― Lacy Williams

“MY WOMAN

My woman came with me as far as Brest,
she got off the train and stayed on the platform,
she grew smaller and smaller,
she became a kernel of wheat in the infinite blue,
then all I could see were the tracks.

Then she called out from Poland, but I couldn't answer,
I couldn't ask, "Where are you, my rose, where are you?"
"Come," she said, but I couldn't reach her,
the train was going like it would never stop,
I was choking with grief.

Then patches of snow were rotting on sandy earth,
and suddenly I knew my woman was watching :
"Did you forget me," she asked, "did you forget me?"
Spring marched with muddy bare feet on the sky.

Then stars lighted on the telegraph wires,
darkness dashed the train like rain,
my woman stood under the telegraph poles,
her heart pounding as if she were in my arms,
the poles kept disappearing, she didn't move,
the train was going like it would never stop,
I was choking with grief.

Then suddenly I knew I'd been on that train for years
- I'm still amazed at how or why I knew it -
and always singing the same great song of hope,
I'm forever leaving the cities and women I love,
and carrying my losses like wounds opening inside me,
I'm getting closer, closer to somewhere.”
― Nazim Hikmet

“THE WEEPING WILLOW

Flowing was the water
showing in its mirror the willow trees.
The weeping willows in the water were washing their hair!
Striking the willows with their sparkling, bare swords
the red horsemen were running to where the sun sets!
Suddenly
like a bird
as if struck
in the wing
a wounded horseman rolled down from his horse!
He didn't shout,
he did'nt call back those who go along,
he just looked with brimming eyes
at the shining horseshoes of departing riders!

O what a pity!
What a pity for him that
no more he shall lie on the foaming necks of galloping horses,
no more he shall play his sword behind the white armies!

The sounds of the horseshoes fades away slowly,
the horsemen vanish at where the sun sets!

Horsemen horsemen red horsemen,
their horses winged with wind!
Their horses winged with...
Their horses winged...
Their horses...
Horse...

Life has passed like the wind winged horsemen!

The voice of the flowing water ceased.
The shadows shadowed
the colours wiped off.
Black coverings came down
over his blue eyes,
the weeping willows hung down
over his
yellow hair!

Weep not weeping willow
weep not,
in the mirror of the black water clasp not your hands!
clasp not your hands!
weep not!”
― Nazim Hikmet