As If
As if with time I happen to see
a fruit of man's tempted fate -
for quiet words, deeds I seek
and a fruitful life the past ate.
As if Boreas gives gooseflesh
to my kindred sensitive soul,
as if balsam - heavenly fresh -
to my hardly overcome role.
Like a tsar over transient bore,
being at the mercy of higher,
I'm a breast-fed baby, no more,
in the boredom of earthly desire.
Like a thrown bone under the Sun -
easy food for skinny jackals,
and a fortune, - unbidden son,
what, might-have-been, ... - me heckles.
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