IN THE OTHER WORLD…
(Sonnet)
Once having stepped over the life’s threshold,
Sepulchral demons’ I provoked resentful passion,
“Who’re you, a man, to get the special compassion?
Why your defiant love still roams the upper world?!
Who’s helped her to escape the grip of our hold?!
Immortal? Why? She must now our be possession.
You’re a poet? Heck, so what? It’s only a profession,
That doesn’t make you a deity to draw us in revolt?”
“Oh,G-d, I’m tired. Free here me of any mundane tie,
And all tormenting passions let me slough.
The false strings of my failed hopes decry.
And last my plea to You is fairly not tough:
Smear my chapped lips with bitter lie,
So I couldn’t curse my painful earthy Love.”
***