Fragments of a Larsan vase
broken when I was
a mere child
lay always in the shed.
When I grew old I resolved
to put them together and see
how the painted animals pranced
under the persimmon tree,
how a winged god
gave a harp to a beardless player,
while a girl leaned on his shoulder,
whispering in his ear.
But I was bitterly saddened:
some pieces had been lost,
some smashed by the hooves of donkeys
or eaten by manure and dust.
I did glue several fragments
of the vase's elegant past
and fashioned from common clay
the missing ones –
they were bland and ugly,
with no painting at all,
yet they filled the vacant spaces
and the vase seemed whole.
Now that it's pieced together,
what a close image it gives
of the days my soul remembers
and the days my body lives.
The Larsan vase
© Copyright: Vlanes, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117111704611
Свидетельство о публикации №117111704611
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