Night The Third - Poem by Peter Russell
The hours torment me.
I do not want anything -
Money, a lover's lips, fame,
Beauty for me, a husband -
It is all the same.
A house over my head
Is a house to die in.
Do not pray for me, mother -
Till you wish me dead.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Every night for nine nights Manuela appeared to me in a dream, and each night she spoke a poem to me. I had never seen her before and I have no idea who she was. - P.R.
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