An hour
Ago
There
Was
The
Hubbub
Of
The
Feast
The
Guests
Chirped
As
Birds
Chirp
Wine
Flowed
And
Whisky
Made
Glasses
Clank
And
Ring
But now
But now
The feast is finished
Now
Dispersed in all directions
The chirping guests
Now
There
Is
Silence
Knife
Of
Quiet
Sadness
In
The
Place
Of
The feast
Only
A
Slight wind neighs
Slow
Slow and slight.
And the
Dust
Goes round.
I wish you had included some of the hubbub of the party in this poem and instead of giving us just a metaphor of the guests' speech to wit chirping had spelled out what they were saying. There is a kind of emptiness in the midst of so much frivolity, even though the narration highlights a hubbub what we encounter is a prevailing silence. But the silence is internal, the poem really takes place not IN the party but rather IN the speaker's head. Most of the guests may be simply chattering, small talk-ing, speaking nothing of value - but wait a moment! that young woman, the one sitting by the fountain, in the summer dress with its flower pattern, she just quoted a line by John Keats, I couldn't catch it but she said it reminded of something Leopardi wrote...Oh, she's getting up... Stop her! Don't let her take her charm and sense elsewhere...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
dust goes round, well and fine, good. please read my poems and comment.