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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365917" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Death of Magnus Kep</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was ages since I'd seen him, <br>So I felt quite out of step<br>With the old Etruscan sculptor<br>That I knew as Magnus Kep, <br>He was brooding in an alley<br>By an old Byzantine store, <br>Then he saw me, and he beckoned, <br>And we walked along the shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He was hunting there for marble, <br>For his studio in Graz, <br>But we stopped in at a wine bar<br>And we sampled their Shiraz, <br>And he told me things he'd never said<br>To anyone before, <br>About why he searched the Holy Land, <br>And ruins, by the score.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I can see their shapes within each block<br>Of marble, ' he had said, <br>'And I know that they are waiting <br>To be freed, because they're dead, <br>But they lived so long ago that they<br>Are patient, in despair, <br>Though their limbs are still as supple, <br>And there's fragrance in their hair.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was sure the heat had got to him, <br>His eyes had fairly gleamed, <br>And I thought his mind disordered, <br>But I listened to his theme, <br>He was looking for the marble<br>That contained the wanton form<br>Of a pornographic priestess <br>He had glimpsed the year before.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'She was lying in the harbour, <br>At the bottom of the sea, <br>Only fifteen feet of water<br>Separated her from me, <br>She had lived a thousand years<br>Before the walls had tumbled in<br>To the harbour, where she frolicked<br>In the service of the king.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then we stopped and peered over<br>At the slight and gentle swell, <br>Down and through the clear water, <br>There were pillars, where they fell, <br>There were blackened slabs of marble lying<br>Scorched, as if by fire, <br>Where the mighty Alexander <br>Burned the city known as Tyre! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Can you see her there? ' he pointed, <br>And I saw a marble slab, <br>Lying half upon a pillar, <br>It was worn, and dull and drab, <br>'Do you see that haughty forehead, <br>Do you see her pointed breasts? '<br>But I only saw a weathered stone, <br>He conjured all the rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We parted, and I heard that he<br>Had raised that mighty stone, <br>Had shipped it back to Graz where he<br>Could work on it alone, <br>The seasons came and went before<br>I thought to follow on, <br>And asked about his sculpture then, <br>His eyes had fairly shone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He led me to the basement and<br>He showed me through the door, <br>He'd chiseled out just half of it, <br>That nearest to the floor, <br>The woman's legs were parted and<br>Inviting to the king, <br>Her vulva gaping proudly like<br>Some fertile offering.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It took my breath away, I stood<br>And scanned those supple thighs, <br>Like frankincense and myrrh they were<br>A balm upon my eyes, <br>I saw that she was locked in there, <br>The sculptor hadn't lied, <br>He'd simply chipped the stone away<br>And there she was, inside! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I asked him then, 'How long before<br>We get to see her face? '<br>He said it didn't matter, he<br>Would try to lend her grace, <br>'She's painted like a whore, ' he said, <br>'Back then, it was the thing, <br>Her duty was to paint her face<br>To please her lord, the king! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For months I sat and wondered how<br>She'd looked, as she emerged, <br>She'd lain in stone three thousand years<br>When Kep had felt the urge<br>To chisel from her marble vault<br>Her buttocks, waist and thighs, <br>Reveal again to living men<br>The wonder of their eyes! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I never saw Kep whole again, <br>Confusing? Yes, I know! <br>They said they'd had to lay him out<br>Down at his studio.<br>His head was in a basket, where they'd<br>Shown him disrespect, <br>To free him from the fingers she<br>Had gripped... around his neck! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">2 July 2010</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Lewis+Paget">David Lewis Paget</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365917" data-title="The Death of Magnus Kep de David Lewis Paget" data-description="It was ages since I'd seen him, 
So I felt quite out of step
With the old Etruscan sculptor
That I knew as Magnus Kep, 
He was brooding in an alley
By an old Byzantine store, 
Then he saw me, and he beckoned, 
And we walked along the shore.

He wa..."></div>
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