John Lars Zwerenz Poems

THE GLORY THAT IS YOU

Come to me my braided angel of the light.
Your tresses are darker than the raven night,
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WISTFUL WAVES

Her maple airs, glide to the autumn sheets:
The curtains which introduce the perfumed bower
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DRESDEN

An ancient jewel of Europe's proud past,
Blasted and bombed into a heap
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The Rain it fell...

The rain it fell on roofs and walls,
Soothing lonely hearts of tristful rhyme.
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THE GHOST

Alone in my castle, a plaything of the breeze,
Indolent and tepid, my leisure filled hours
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ROVING ON THE BRIGHT, SPACIOUS LAWN OF THE PALACE,
I HAVE COME TO BEHOLD THE LADY IN WHITE,
WHO STEPS ONTO THE BALCONY IN THE SUNLIGHT.
I STAND BELOW ENTRANCED, DRINKING FROM A CHALICE.
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THE HOSPITAL

In the dreary old hospital of endless pain
The good, young women tend without disdain
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L'HÔPITAL

Dans le vieil hôpital de la douleur sans fin
Les bonnes, les jeunes femmes ont tendance à dédaigner
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Celui que j'aime

Ce n'est pas Juliette que j'adore, ni Béatrice, ni le fleuri, la tradition étincelante
De Fair Aphrodite, ni le visage juste d'Athéna. -
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Ah! - The villa by the boundless sea,
It was a lovely, enchanting stay.
Although it was the summer of 1933
It seems I was there only yesterday.
...