Franz Werfel Poems
|1.||At Old Railroad Stations||4/21/2010|
|2.||Dead Friend Of My Youth||4/21/2010|
|6.||Six Septets To Honor The Spring Of 1905||3/30/2012|
|7.||Dance Of Death||4/21/2010|
|8.||The Creature's Stare||4/21/2010|
|9.||The Faithful One||4/21/2010|
|11.||I'M Still Just A Child||3/30/2012|
|13.||One Hour Ater The Dance Of Death||4/21/2010|
One Hour Ater The Dance Of Death
I lay in the abyss, where twisting squeezing
The lowest form of life pushed itself peristaltically.
Where slippery and slimy worm and eel entwined,
I was a worm myself, overwhelmed with exhaustion.
This lasted an eon before I succeeded,
And one of my senses could slowly lift itself up,
The sense of hearing. Listening, it scouted out if
The dancer, Death, had finally waltzed into the distance.
I eavesdrop breathless. Then a sparkling chromatic scale
Flows wanly from the open window next door.
Maybe Death is sitting there tuning his piano.
And while ...