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A Ruined Walk
The walls of the old fort are cracked. Nearby,
shabby remains of lost empires lie scattered
here and there. By the broken marble fountain
a forlorn crow, with ragged wings,
painfully caws. This was the royal bath:
in another language a beautiful sound.
From caged centuries within, muslin curtains part;
the polished stone quickens to amorous footfalls;
in the trilling water, bubbles of laughter dissolve...
The famished evening wraps me in
its dark, withered claws. Once more
these restless stones, troubled ancestors,
possess me with some unknown resolve.
