The light wraps you in its mortal flame.
Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way
against the old propellers of the twighlight
that revolves around you.
...
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alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead and filled with the lives of fire, pure heir of the ruined day. A poem of excellence. Amazing poet.
The more you read Pablo the more you get fascinated to read his work I really admire his writing skills
What more could Pablo have now written about had he not lived in such primitive time's.. iip
Deserves a lot more than a 5.6 This is a powerful piece on the end of day, death and the cycle os sun, moon and nature.
The great roots of night grow suddenly from your soul, ..................................................... Marvelous imagery blended with its excellent metaphor.
Great poem. The imagery of great roots growing from your soul and the slave of the circle that moves through black and gold (the sun?) and the ending paradox, that fullness of life imples decay and sadness