Deadly Nightshade

Ana Kostadinova
[svastika@abv.bg]

With the gentle wing of a sleep
the mirth will smooth my soul:
in scenes and voices, so sweet,
in smells that one's ne'er known

it will hug my conscious thought
as cures my wan, ebbing heart.
Oblivion, craved so long, and sought
why do I see you now so hard?

Oblivion, you child of the mirth,
in the Lethe let me deeply sink
and let me rest in your birth
washing my mind from the ink.

Thus words and themes I'll forget
for there will be only a sweet tune
and figures and views I've not met,
and matter banned by the doom.

But what still keeps you away?
And why can't I feel your breath?
Will I always for you wait
or your chariot will be my death?

Poem © 2002 Ana Kostadinova, all rights reserved
 appears here by permission

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