Nero CaroZiv Poems

Oh, a maid of mine, where are you going?
Stay and hear! I am your true-love in fire glowing
let me whisper in your ear, I can sing tunes high and low;
Wander no further from me, my lush voluptuous pretty sweeting,
...

Dark winter night, a window-sill is crystallized with frost,
Outside a world is bitter, dump, cold

The moon is cruel, prudish and the howling wind
...

When she the glamorous one returned back to mother earth
And all her joyous body and prime beauty are claimed by worms
That consumed off the red and white from her lovely cheeks
That once had been so proud and so widely notorious,
...

Some nights devoted to the sessions of the mind and sweet silent thought
I recall, I summon up remembrance of things long past,
I sigh, the lack of many things I craved, and sought,
And so these sessions go thru with me like a friend, the whole night they last
...

The night high tide rushes and rakes upon the stony sandy shore;
Along the rugged cliffs and chalky mossy low caves
The violent wind moans and mourns the hoarse ocean, seeming to deplore
All that are buried in the sea bottom and in the womb of the restless waves
...

Come to me in my dreams, at least if not in reality, and then
Compensated by night, by day I shall be somehow well again!
In my immense yearning the night will more than pay
The hopeless craving of the lengthened lonesome day.
...

The wanton winds kissed me in one bright morning spring,
While the Robin birds teased me with their chirrup and sing,
But Katherine with her slaying fiery eyes just looked at me whole
And never even once spoke to me at all.
...

Take heed of loving me;
At least remember, I have warned thee;
You may ignore and look back with longing eyes and know that I will follow,
We can rush thru meadows and dales and let the wild wind lift us up as it does to the soaring swallow,
...

Hey love, hey rose, I wish I knew the day you were born
Such a beauty on the face of earth; yet a twin to a thorn;
Oh what fiery slaying eyes, killing with your sharp scorn
...

I have desired to rush back to childhood days; to go
Where springs and summer and ripe water melon do not fail,
To fields and meadows where flies no sharp and sided hail,
And a few lilies and spring tulips in up hill wind blow.
...