Senses, oh my first victims,
You are open again, you are sucking again, cleansed
You return to life.
Your brain is using you like a devil,
Tempted by a crime immune to law.
Senses, oh my sacred victims,
So it is again tonight,
(Oh Lord, how lovely you are when you are lucid)
You draw and suck, but find no fulfilment.
Nothing responds to you, nothing belongs to you,
And still, my dear, you must deliver.
But tonight, though willing to deliver, no one waits for you,
No one wants you, oh my senses.
And the brain, that magic devil,
Is now weeping.
Such a pity
To see a devil weep!
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Senses, senses by Mimoza Ahmeti )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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