You whose aspect has again been forced to gaze at crossed spears and the abuses of your spaces and the fire that unmakes our works: I grieve two, three times, grieve for the country, for the grave of Atlas's daughter's seaborne son who in a coracle enclosed - all alone - as he left Zerynthos at the beginning of the deluge.
(After their towers were razed and those who survived swam desperately to avoid doom, having seen it. Strange seas: on the fruits of the soil grazed the whales and perhaps the dolphins slept a short time in the alien beds of men.)
The dove. The flight of fire. Hound of Pephnos. In rounded shell, as boat. Vulture-lain.
(After their towers were razed and those who survived swam desperately to avoid doom, having seen it. Strange seas: on the fruits of the soil grazed the whales and perhaps the dolphins slept a short time in the alien beds of men.)
The dove. The flight of fire. Hound of Pephnos. In rounded shell, as boat. Vulture-lain.
