The Sorrowful Forest
The arid forest's grounds
are paved with dry and riddish leaves
that the whimsical wind loves
to take off the shivering sages!
Whoever hears the cries of the ravens
is a soul that sympathizes their agony;
they have sought consolation,but found pity...
in that heart ardently singing praises!
The swirling November's raindrops
land on the thirsty and light foilage...
without the strenght in their rage;
Nature ashamed to flaunt her diamonds
that nourished and embellished her tree-tops:
Nature retrieved to her dormant state!
A gloomy day for the angry shrikes that seem ample...
waging war with the presumptuous thrush
that throws glances by flapping his long wings;
an unexpected lightning strikes the growing maple,
pulling it from its roots,making those shrikes dash...
birds have better instincts that human beings!
I witness the wrath of the squall...
bringing down a centenary oak,
which is flung across before a hard fall;
I,enfeebled but not frightened,make my oath
underneath a sorrowful forest...
as dark as a secret put to rest!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2006
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