The best houses I have lived in
and loved in
and almost died in
are the houses that rise unbidden
from the swamps
of unkempt dreams.
They are almost always exceptionally tall
with several floors
and underground vaults
with stairs leading to water
of unplumbed depths
and little rivulets.
One stood in the gardens at Versailles, with all the
aplomb of a Fabergé egg.
Another loomed, a chilly Edgar Allan Poe masterpiece, its
subterranean chambers waterlogged
Yet another stood skew as Mother Hubbard's old shoe, its
staircases crooked and its cupboards empty
With a lover's stealth I have dwelt in such overnight houses,
They have come to me ready formed,
And I have pursued such treasure
as cried out to be found.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
with stairs leading to water of unplumbed depths and little rivulets. so charming and lovely read it twice..... blessings :)