1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
|
---
title: Finding the Lion
id: finding-the-lion
genre: verse
project:
title: Autocento of the breakfast table
class: autocento
...
| Tonight, as I look up, the stars
| hide themselves in shame. [There is no moon][].
| The sky is black, like my desk,
| [nothing like a raven][]. The streetlights
| look on the scene disinterested.
| They have their own [small gossips of the dark][].
| I came here to find the Lion, old
| friend, but he will not show his flanks, his
| paws, his shoulders, [his mane][]. I
| can hear him laughing from his hiding-place
| behind the moon, nonexistent, under
| the cold dead earth. The mountain is in front
| of me now, a hole of stars daring me
| to pierce it with my sight. The lion's still
| laughing; the streetlamps talk about
| me amongst themselves, and go out. There
| never was any lion, they tell me.
| [You only hear the wind][] [on the mountain][].
[There is no moon]: moongone.html
[nothing like a raven]: feedingtheraven.html
[small gossips of the dark]: the-night-we-met.html
[his mane]: axe.html
[You only hear the wind]: cold-wind.html
[on the mountain]: mountain.html
|
