Study of my head
Among endless, well spoken ideals,
among Throian walls
the town with thousand eyes will arise.
Snakes and men had tired with severe grief,
the fools are torches jets that had died.
. There are Tantal and Sisyphus .Endless
swashes of water. Oh, Danaides fate!
My reason is wounded by poisoned arrow
is still studying the past.
My step is fast. The stones are my cheek-bones.
The God Hellios, how fiery are your horses!
Your prophet’s spring is surrounded by golden runic mist.
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