Huntress Moon

Змеится луна в воде, -
Но лжёт, золотясь, дорога...
Ущерб, перехлест везде.
А мера - только у Бога.

Зинаида Гиппиус: "Мера"


Hidden in thickets of dense cloud,
the moon - lone huntress, Artemis.
Have no doubt: she knows the heart's
strange secrets, parts
the soul's thin shroud. 

Lovers of other times invoked
her presence to inspire their trysts,
torsos morphing into lyres -
instruments, creation's gyres,
arteries awakening to threnody
like bees in spring.

It is love's way to travel out of season,
arriving late, departing soon,
unheralded, unbidden, when all
seems lost, impossible, forbidden,
mired in travesty, and truth
cannot be reconciled with reason.

It is too late to still the sated bees
about to swarm, stall the arrow
sped toward its mark, turn back   
the racing heart.

The hounds of Artemis are coursing,
scenting destiny.
Who are the hares,
and who the hounds,
it's difficult to see.