A Lume Brillante

Call for my wine, now,
One decanter.

No canto,
I'll repeat pound for pound:

I have sung women in three cities
But it is all one,

I sing to the sun.
But as for you and for me,

What's said has been said,
And what's done

Has to be.
Now, what harkens here only

As an æthereal being, within me
Something quickens,

No tide of discontent,
No veil to circumvent, so much

That is, and so much that is less,
And what's left?

Anymore
I have no need to digress

From this--diligent sense,
Butterflies

In the mist,
My bed in the west--

Only the tempest of the page
For the true singer--

Play! There is
No wage you could ever bring her,

Really, who could even pay?
Whoever has the ear

Lingers,
Ante up, it's all the same.

I have sung women in three cities
But it is all one,

I sing to the sun.
Be it fate or merely chance,

I seek not fame, that fleeting stag,
But at my back

I hear the frail bleet,
From rags to rags, I have no need of riches.

Naked and plain I came, naked and plain
I will leave.

A penny gained
Is a penny lost, I will give it all back,

No matter the cost: diviner in me,
Not for profit.

It is all one,
I sing to the sun.

Death smiles back
Every morning

And at the dawn
I open the curtains, throw my head back and laugh!

I am on the free crags, who can call foul-play?
I'm from the mountains:

Two in the bush
Ain't worth a damn.