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The poet

May 15, 2011 by · No comments

Vladimir Levchev

Photo: Andesine

My Life had stood – a Loaded Gun –
. . . . . . .
For I have but the power to kill,
Without–the power to die—

Emily Dickinson

Like Medusa
I petrify with my fiery eyes
lovers, minutes,
streets, houses and trees.

Like Medusa I turn
the mortal into stone – I turn
love into art – I turn
transient life into eternal death.

Like Medusa I live alone
in a silent room –
a desert of poems – statues
of my missed life.

Like the beautiful priestess Medusa
I am punished with solitude – punished
for being raped
by the god of the sea and earthquake.

Like Мedusa I am punished
to wait for Death –
my kind Cavalier – the only one
I cannot petrify.

Like Мedusa, like Medusa –
damned priestess of Wisdom –
I petrify life with my eyes.
And I wait for my kind Cavalier.

Categories: Frontpage · poetry


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