I'm saddened by my mirrored face,
Smiling like a Sogdian on his rock,
When every grain-glass touched
Conceals belded thoughts.
Still I don't dare
To settle on that canopic fold.
At night's blessed brim,
Sing a good song for me,
And place this wood-husk lute on the wadi....
Come spring I'll be just as cold.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
I'm saddened by my mirrored face,
Smiling like a Sogdian on his rock,
When every grain-glass touched
Conceals belded thoughts.
Still I don't dare
To settle on that canopic fold.
At night's blessed brim,
Sing a good song for me,
And place this wood-husk lute on the wadi....
Come spring I'll be just as cold.
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