Thursday, August 18, 2011
Of noble blood we walk like telephones
To talk to the world about life as we know it.
Raw meat is sheltered by the souls of metal,
How easier is the task of the bold and splendid?
Any knight of the table builds a signal to attack
The one referee who antagonises us when there is dispute.
My diary is voluminous, mighty of praise,
Majestic in appearance, as the words of solid facts
Are the personal feats, the personal secrets.
Of the aristocrats there are blown balloons,
Friends of the air, floating like a treasure of grand colour.