I was lowered into solitary;
Perfumed and robed in fine linen.
What would I do, inside a cage,
When only I, would inhabit?
In here, darkness is imprissoned,
And silence is without life.
Though a fly, I won’t hear, nor
Bulge out of shape in public;
Still, what would I, perfumed
And robed in fine linen, do?
Perhaps, to decay I'd plead for
More time, that I may in my attire,
Rest well before I yield my identity.
O maggots! Maggots! Must I,
Remind you all to spare my brain.
Even in this dark lonesome,
Beauty, I still want to perceive.
By: Jeffrey Febi 02 Apr 2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem