La Villa Adriana
Walking one spring afternoon,
I lost my voice
Beside the marble of the villa,
Everwhite, still gleaming
In the waning sun.
And I fell away from those beside me,
Who tired of the days walk,
Whispered that the ruins,
Were looking very much the same.
But I was still enchanted.
I sat beside a garden pool,
Where swans even now, shivering,
Dip their heads into the deep green,
Seeking something no stranger sees.
My mind drifted as easily as the wind,
That rustled the new and sunlit grass,
Smiling at those who passed on the road.
I fingered the mosaics, patterned stones,
And the spaces between them,
Where moss and ferns are taking root.
I wondered about those who laid the stones,
For the temple of Serapis, spreading them
Before the feet of the Karyatides,
Where philosophers once gathered and spoke,
And could not help but sound profound.
It was more than possible one had sat,
Where I sat then and wondered,
In much the same way,
About the meaning of our lives,
The absurdity of our existence,
To set a ripple in the water,
That moves and grows in a startling moment,
And vanishes forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment