Lizard at Pompeii Poem by Babette Deutsch
Lizard at Pompeii
Little finger of fiery green, it
flickers over stone. Waits
in a weed's shadow.
Flashes emerald-
is gone.
Here once horror poured so hot, heavy, thick,
everyone was dead before he was sick.
Now here is no heat but the sun's
on old stone treads;
no motion but that rippling inch of whip:
yours, you little live jewel, who slipped away
into silence. Yet stay on to haunt memory,
like those dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/26/2026 4:34:32 AM # rel_20260825T124344Z_022792b
