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(8 December 1911 – 12 May 1992 / Asea in Arcadia)

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When you reach that other world, don't become a cloud,
don't become a cloud, and the bitter star of dawn,
so that your mother knows you, waiting at her door.
Take a wand of willow, a root of rosemary,
a root of rosemary, and be a moonlit coolness
falling in the midnight in your thirsting courtyard.
I gave you rosewater to drink, you gave me poison,
eaglet of the frost, hawk of the desert.

Submitted: Saturday, December 06, 2003
Edited: Monday, March 15, 2010

Read poems about / on: star, mother, world

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Comments about this poem (Song Of Old Times by Nikos Gatsos )

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  • Michael Morgan (2/6/2014 11:56:00 PM)

    a star in the sky of poetry, whom nothing boring touches. MM

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Stephen W (2/6/2014 4:37:00 PM)

    The poem's a bit odd too.

  • Leslie Philibert (2/6/2014 6:05:00 AM)

    What is this strange review below this?

  • Edgar Sinoff (2/6/2013 11:02:00 AM)

    my friend's step-mother makes $81/hr on the laptop. She has been without a job for 6 months but last month her payment was $15394 just working on the laptop for a few hours. Here's the site to read more

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