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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413099" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An ecstasy of solitude in an estranged city</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">An ecstasy of solitude in an estranged city<br>With the company of a winding spider swaying on its pall<br>At dark, dusty, sticky, silky corner wall<br>A craving anticipation for the monotonous music of a solitary cricket<br>At midnight sound and fury of streets wicket<br>Pondering at the queue of laborious ants<br>Undisturbed by on going neighbors rant<br>Indifferently they are pursuing their heavy task<br>As I wonder how long and how far it may last<br> <br>Cold damp frigid winter night at the edge of city<br>In the middle of the garden wood<br>A folded leaf is wooed from out its root<br>With wind rising and gusting upon the barren branch<br>It floats and falls down to the dark dreary air<br>And now bouncing between barren boughs in a macabre dance<br>To the sound of the music of the whispering wind there<br>This black spotted yellow leaf joins his clan<br>that dances as often as dance it can<br>A back choir of hissing leaves at the curb <br>Of deserted street in a slumbering suburb</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> <br>At dark sleeps isolated desert city</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A stale out of its prime apple hangs at a naked peak<br>Once fully juiced and waxed and sweetened with summer light<br>Drops in silence into this winter night<br>It rolls into the chilling water of a winding creek<br>It falls it fades and rolls and has no toil<br>On the leaves bedded damp soil<br>So as I strut and fret my peak hour on stage<br>Like this apple my time will come to be a solemn purge</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My very heart faints and my whole soul grieves<br>At the moist rich smell of rotten leaves<br>The thin window glass into my room gives <br>The  persistent rain keeps hammering hard on the plain<br>And on the remote jog of a mountains' crag<br>My inward is gnawed and shuttered with unbalanced pain<br>With the piercing acidic ache of isolation rack</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A foul air hangs over a ghost city<br>A heavy spirit haunts the weekend last hours<br>At my window the sight of yellowing bowers<br>The cold damp earth is a grave of scream chilly<br>Moldings beaten down flowers hang over a tattered lily<br> <br>Slumbering indifferently sunk in weakness and in woe city<br>The blackest moss is engraving its path on a tiled wall<br>There thickly crushed through the cracks one as a whole<br>Not thick enough to bar from a neighbor bath<br>The burst of a seductive maiden laugh<br>Entrenching my memories of my maiden passion<br>for the first encounter with love session<br> <br>Encircled by these deep dire solitude walls and awful room cell<br>Where heavy pensive suffocating contemplations creep into brain to dwell<br>And ever musing melancholy holds me hostage under its reigns<br>My blood frizzes, it stops flowing in my veins<br>Relentless walls whose rectangular darkness contains<br>My repentant sighs and isolation imprisoned pains<br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Time drags slothfully at deserted empty city</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tonight the rough winds begin to flow and rise<br>A roar from the far West dropping day<br>Blows dust and hay and whirls them away<br>The flock of alarmed crows blown to the skies<br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the stormy East the wind rushes roaring straining<br>The frightening bare wood twigs are waning<br>And the broad Sacramento River with brimful banks complaining <br>Of heavily loaded low clouds raining<br>And the bolted levee sighing and water gaining</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>A sudden tumult shakes the city in violent dread <br>When a sullen thunder in the streets has crushed and rolled<br>And in haste I wake to the sounds of the night with my dream fled<br>And in the shuddering daunting dawn I behold <br>With blunt awareness with indifference of an annoyed and self pity<br>As the drama of the night enfolds in the streets of isolated city</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By the curtains of my bed <br>That abiding phantom of cold shade<br>The lonely wind whirled twist and howl strong<br>And the night before me is still long<br>The shadow of the dark is still heavy the same<br>My heavy eyelids my anguish hangs like shame</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When by this dreadful night of solitude I sit<br>And hateful thoughts grasp and enwrap my soul in shadow gloom<br>When no fair hopeful dreams are in my mind to repeat<br>And the bare burden of life' toil offers no bloom</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where are thou starry fires of summer's night vault<br>in the blue unclouded calm weather<br>When choirs of stars and some bearded metros trails light together<br>You foul night soon to draw the dismal solitude cult</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And with your capacious pall<br>illuminating the sky with lighting and sullen thunder roll<br>placing a death-like colors in all things<br>As the rusted nail fell from the knots in piercing ring<br>the stressed shutter bang without a rhyme on the wall<br>the broken sheds looked outworn, sad and strange<br>Through the lifted clinking latch the naked branches vacillate out of range</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Then out of helplessness and boredom I fall into long sleep<br>So heavy was my rest as death deep<br>And in my dream I am dead<br>Buried at the cemetery remote row edge<br>By a fence where a heavy load train may at dusk pass<br>My face and my body full of worms and dust</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> <br>And in my dream I lay dead<br>All dust and sand over my head<br>My tomb under the night calm starry arc<br>But it is quiet chilly not dark<br>The thin gray cloud is spread sparingly on high<br>It covers but not hides the sky<br>The moon is behind, and at full shape<br>And yet she seems remotely small and out of grape</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A high heels lady walks over taking no heed<br>My grave is only few yards from a busy street<br>And she walks with heels beat beat<br>And I long to see the face of these passing feet<br>But she passes away leaving me beneath sand and stone tomb<br>How awful different distorted deformed to the scene coming from the womb<br>And she prompts away on beds of amaranth and molly<br>As the nightly sweet breeze lull her legs blowing lowly<br>I try to push grave and stone wholly<br>To watch her face so divine and holy<br>But she draws away far slowly<br>As the lunar face is hidden from earth<br>I lay here in the grave dust with ruined blood<br>That once used to burst in veins and throb<br>Now it is all turning into mud<br>As worthless liquid thrown down the tab<br> <br>In a remote tavern I hear men sing<br>Their song collapses at the grave yard brink<br>Fill the cup and fill the can<br>All winding paths of man<br>Are but dust of nothing that rises up<br>And likely lightly laid down again</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> <br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>As the gloomy sanguine sunrise with fiery eyes<br>And his burning wings plumes out spread through the skies<br>I wake and I rise the eave-drops fall blurring my eyes<br>And the yellow vapors chock the frail morning air<br>That floats from the mist over the river tide flail<br> <br>Last night showers brought relief to the thirsting flowers<br>At a city with no towers encircled with vast bowers<br>The moss in the wet night rapidly breeds<br>The water in the river has covered half way in heights the marsh reeds<br> <br> <br>In the morning the wind shakes and trembles the woods to and fro<br>Bending them aggravatingly into shimmering forms that flash before my view<br>They mingled and melt in green as the dawn stars melt in dawn blue<br>The scudding winds waves whitening the green wheat fields in caress<br>Like tender maiden hands the embracing gales express<br>A subtlety of mighty tenderness, free of stress<br>Engulf sky and earth, the beauty that leaves us out of breath <br>Over the rills and crags and hills in depth<br>As a slanting and whirling swarm of golden bees<br>Twirl swirl and flee in front of me<br>As the day comes back from the death<br> <br> <br>    copy rights 2010</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Isaac+Ziv">Isaac Ziv</a><div class=q>
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With the company of a winding spider swaying on its pall
At dark, dusty, sticky, silky corner wall
A craving anticipation for the monotonous music of a solitary cricket
At midnight sound and fury of stre..."></div>
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