Awakening

Grave mouths of lions
Sinuous smiling of young crocodiles 
Along the river's water conveying millions 
Isles of spice 
How lovely he is, the son 
Of the widowed queen
And the sailor 
The handsome sailor abandons a siren, 
Her widow's lament at the south of the islet 
It's Diana of the barracks yard 
Too short a dream 
Dawn and lanterns barely extinguished 
We are awakening 
A tattered fanfare 

Jean Cocteau,  Awakening

1 comments:

marcos bakerm said...

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