The builders of Ravenna, gazing skyward 535
Setting the last tesserae
In mosaics of surpassing brilliance
Saw moon turned to blood
Sun veiled and darkened
Sensed chill enveloping the earth.
They saw four horsemen
Famine, war, pestilence, death
And the end of days.
Four horsemen swept Byzantium,
But they still say mass in San Vitale.
Þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg
The exiled poet, gazing skyward 1315
By age-hoary Byzantine basilicae
Saw moon turned to blood
Sun veiled and darkened
Sensed chill enveloping the earth
And in a vision saw
The orbs transformed by wrath at human sin
And gave Saint Peter voice to prophesy
Famine, war, pestilence, death
A long bitter road to reconciliation.
Four horsemen leveled Tuscany
Yet Dante and Giotto still delight.
Þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg!
We are so learned now –
Toba, Aiwa, Mazama
Sulfur, volume of tephra
Stratospheric circulation
And, nonetheless
The ineffable mind of God.
What poet now
In some virtual Ravenna
Or Florence by the Western sea
Gazing skyward, prophesies
Famine, war, pestilence
Another cycle grinding painfully
To new beginnings? 2015
There is no man who, having tasted death
However briefly
Does not know heaven.
Why then do we cower under darkened skies?
Þæs ofereode, þisses swa mæg!
Martha Sherwood, April 28,2014
The Old English tag line is from Deor and translates: that passed, so also shall this.
maybe.. maybe.. from a humble poet (self exiled) from Firenze.. ;) thanks for sharing, Martha greetings from Tuscany
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I may have enjoyed your notes as much as I enjoyed your poem. I look forward to reading more from you