Night The Eighth Poem by Peter Russell
Night The Eighth
I was a happy docile child
One day I don't remember
I walked out on the hills
Heard music of the pipes
By a lake's edge
I live in a palace under the water
There are no sounds, no sights, down here
Everyone has gone away
To a great ball, they say
There are mice here
And I sit on a rush mat…
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
MANUELA'S POEMS
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.
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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4/18/2024 3:31:13 PM # 1.0.0.1119
