Chrysanthemum
Like a stray phantom,
Shrouded in fog;
I lay down dying
Upon the thorny solitude
- With no visible candles around me -
The eternal night,
As she grows inside me;
Seems to strip the sky
Off its Diamond-Star,
And the chant of Israfel
- Getting pale and lifeless -
Seems to echo my secret melodies.
In the dark process,
The ether-covered solitude
Gets fermented,
And takes hold of my spirit.
Yet,
With metallic feet,
I finally stepped
Into that misty hollowness;
Wearing the petals
Of a red Chrysanthemum.
Rochdi Bouille
Casablanca, 1994
Copyright © Bouille Rochdi | Year Posted 2016
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