Poezie
The Stance
yeah, is hard not to trust Joan of Arc
1 min lectură·
Mediu
After the darkness has fallen,
On a foggy bridge in Cyprus,
Two statues were slowly walking towards each other,
Unknowingly.
Her name... could have been Margot
And she had a black swan as a consacrated attendant.
The unnamed man on the other side
Was accompanied by a white owl.
Both birds kept quiet,
Only the silence dared to kiss
Their owners’ smooth ivory foreheads.
If it was fate or a curse coming from the past
That had been making them move that night
Is of no importance.
Maybe they won’t even notice one another,
In the middle of the bridge,
When arriving there together.
Or maybe their search was motivated
By the forces of the yearning Venus,
A wizard’s spell or pure curiosity.
And who could tell,
As the distance grew shorter,
Who would be the hunter
And who would be the prey, or, in fact,
If there will be a hunter and a prey at all.
That night, so full of frangrances,
Occured in June
And a love or a tragic story
Was about to be born
Once again.
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