The chisel broke the mold
The marble fell away
Featureless the stone
Came alive that day
The dust fell from the air
The sound of work stood still
Art proved revelation
Could be wrought by human will
The stone it mimicked flesh
The sinews and the veins
The lips parted to speak
The words of ill-gained fame
Immobile though the wind
Would try in vain to make
You part of natures plan
But that was not your fate
A colossus for posterity
A byword on the cusp
A taste of immortality
That craven human lust
The chisel forged from stone
Some semblance of real life
For marble knows no other way
That to be carved by strife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem