Octavio Paz Poem for You

The Tomb of Amir Khusru

Trees heavy with birds hold
the afternoon up with their hands.
Arches and patios. A tank of water,
poison green, between red walls.
A corridor leads to the sanctuary:
beggars, flowers, leprosy, marble.

Tombs, two names, their stories:
Nizam Uddin, the wandering theologian,
Amir Khusru, the parrot’s tongue.
The saint and the poet. A grim
star sprouts from a cupola.
Slime sparkles in the pool.

Amir Khusru, parrot or mockingbird:
the two halves of each moment,
muddy sorrow, voice of light.
Syllables, wandering fires,
vagabond architectures:
every poem is time, and burns.


About Prof. Woland

I contain multitudes. Come meet us.
This entry was posted in Meaning and Philosophy, Writing and Communication and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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