Giorgio Veneto (Athens, Greece)
Lone the gitan walks on the crest,
the cap becomes his silent friend,
close to unseen free eagles nest,
on basalt rock of the montagne.
The winds transmit dispersed his words,
down grassy earths' deep watersheds,
along the brow, but he's not heard.
where fierce the winds cut souls to shreds.
And there in cold, amid the winds,
the lone gitan stares up to stars,
t' escarpments and granite ridge,
wrongful with grief his soul will mar.
The lone gitan flies from the cairn,
of the volcanic iced montagne,
the winds in crags transmit concern,
for his surreal flight to campagne.
And there he sings along the brae,
his voice deflects on slopes to cling,
while solitude will wear today,
golden betrothal sapphire ring.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
(An Iambic tetrameter)
Comments about this poem (Montagne by Giorgio Veneto )
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