The siren
Barefoot forth, with painful soles
I walk the sunburned sand,
onwards to the cooling surf,
for a dive I cannot withstand.
Gazing back at just left land,
beyond the wavy dunes I seethe beloved contour of a siren
whose glances I can't ignore,
standing now where I should be
on an elsewhere, faraway shore.
In a mindblazing moment I cry
“Have you no pity with this crush?
O, dear one, in my language lost, vaguely
(I don't wear glasses when swimming)
and visual referring to mythologies,
to different concepts of love?”
A weather-beaten statue
appeared from a frozen world,while I myself stand in the surf
and see the clouds drift inland,
where under a steady graying dome
the memories on my siren roam.