Monday, October 25

At 12 O'Clock

At 12 o'clock in the afternoon
in the middle of the street --

Summer had all but brought the fruit
to its perilous end:
& the summer sun & that boy's look

did their work on me.
Night hid the sun.
Your face consumes my dreams.

Others feel sleep as feathered rest;
mine but in flames refigures
your image lit in me.

-- Meleager
Translated by Peter Whigham