Twine then the rays
Round her soft Theban tissues.
All will be as She says,
When the dead Past reissues.
Matters not what nor where,
Hark, to the moon's dim cluster!
How was her heavy hair
Lithe as a feather-duster!
Matters not when nor whence;
Flittertigibbet!
Sound make the song, not sense,
Thus I inhibit!
Um, yeah. No clue what this means. Maybe gibberish is what it is supposed to mean... I don't know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sound make the song, not sense the poet tells us in the penultimate line. This seems like an invitation to listen not with the intellect but with some other part of the psyche - the heart perhaps. This is a sensual and seductive poem. The writer is in love with language, and possibly enchanted with a ghost - the dead Past reissues. Theban is a contrived language popular with occultists and magii. So, in a sense, is poetry, which at its best is capable of creating magic. This poem creates a world the reader can inhabit and feel comfortable and enchanted in.