Dream led me to the bleak stone city hearth;
Thither thee youth love words written on sand
Drifted away grains of our hushed band
The poets bond–the blood ink vein of art.

Step by step I followed thou solemn walk
Whilst clad in sunken ghostly aether night
But thy black canvas couldn’t bind my light;
A lost oath shunned mute my ardour sigh talk.

Now, I stand shaken lone before forged rhymes;
Make me heed clank bag full of gold coins–
Thy hollow looming power between lines
Where sold is my soul root to intents
Of thou feign art for art’s fane; so lie shines
Stale whilst art fails to save beauty from taints.

 

Published on: June 7, 2012

TorquatoTasso, 1544 - 1595, Poems to Flora Written cca. 1593-4

 

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