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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=413202" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sacramento's sacraments</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sacramento, Sacramento a city under twilight dusk<br>From your deserted streets the people one by one will not last<br>Where are all the lights and the young lads gone? <br>Where are all the flowers and the nightly gowns? <br> <br>Solely and slowly the homeless roam in the ghostly streets<br>Searching morsels and shredded company in dark allies pits<br>Poverty and desolation scream from every corner wall<br>An inferno wall of fear cankering the human soul<br> <br>A shady tattered figure with torn vomits on the side walk stone<br>His lungs and soul all widely, publically blown<br>His pal lays his liquids in comfort on a bank of murky creek<br>while a salty dropp slides down my dusty cheek</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sacramento, Sacramento in your elongated gardens<br>the black bat night has flown<br>In his path a wooden bench of lovers lane is unattended alone<br>And the roses by the hush of the moon lost their pardons</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The nightly beasts will not come out of their den banned by fright<br>The little birds winged their way shrieking out of their natural game<br>As the broad moon rises looming like a beacon flame<br>against the red murky evening light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Gothic ornaments attached to buildings with granite pillars broad and tall<br>Standing in support shoulder to shoulder, brother to brother<br>as the night shades on the weary city fall<br>their claws grasp and wrap your avenues like blight<br>Lovers will not whisper to each other<br>“be by the roses tonight”.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> A granite bright silhouette appears streamed into the air by the gable wall<br>As slowly steals the moon in a silver flame<br>Along her rarely naked breast she announces the starry night her proclaim<br>There among the tall pillars the glory of the night holds its fall </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I muse upon her high state as the broad moon laves<br>The lawn by the cathedral through the door<br>Hearing the holy organ waves<br>Of sound rolling on roof and floor</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Odd ominous is that lunar light<br>The granite rock column which stands on<br>Confronting the sanguine beam bright<br>Seems to change into a pillar of crimson </div><div style="margin:10px 0">While its lower part is doused in darkness half averted<br>Shrouded in the densest pall of dark<br>And the vaults of blending beams of nightly arc<br>And a bronze snake twines his black folds and glossy neck converted</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sacramento, Sacramento the meadows around you are shining with splendor haze<br>As the sun daily gilds the wheat stems with glaze<br>And the night desert winds blow and the palm tree arms stir<br>a star barely peers through the thick heavy atmosphere<br>You are far from any native shores<br>Where waves roll high and foaming breakers roar</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Sacramento, Sacramento the charmed sunset lingers in the West<br>The hot feverish night succeeds  with parched unwholesome air <br>That softly  falls on petals blown from roses crest<br>And your inner land cannot see the silent pinnacles of snow aged and fair</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The hills around are full with flowers in bright bloom<br>Grow green and broad and take no care<br>except sun-steep at noon and nightly dew-fed at the moon<br>far from misery and despair</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sacrament, Sacramento no crocodiles in your briny creeks<br>The sun scorches mercilessly your mountains peaks<br>in the sand fields of your river foot<br>reluctantly avoiding the banks outcropping  tree's roots</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The plain in not grassy in your wide river, but wild and bare<br>Whirl, wild and open to the hot afternoon air<br>which has built up through the streets everywhere<br>Under high elevated train rail concrete gray<br>With inner voice the wide silent river runs<br>In it floats a dying half plucked swan</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The willow trees sagging over the floating swan weep<br>On their shades on tangled blankets the settlements of the homeless sleep<br>the sadden trees with boughs drooping in deep lament<br>As the weary wind sighs and calms the grieving reeds tops at ascend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Sacramento Sacramento <br>In your field the thundering steed<br>Rushes aimlessly struck by the long day heat<br>There is windless calm a dismal pause beat<br>The dust of hooves cloud the inferno air<br>Towering to the vaults of colossus blue without a stair <br>The lonely shaded spider’s thin gray pall<br>Waves slowly widening over between a pole and wall<br> <br>The bat hangs by the whispering reeds in the bower<br>And waits the kingdom of the night by the fortress of his power<br>The ominous owl usurps the beacon tower<br>The stray dog howls in despair over the river brim<br>By his emaciated human both baffled thirst and famine grim<br>As the line of dust on the human face lingers<br>The hands idle with patina of skin and sot on the fingers<br> <br>Though the river never shrinks from its sandy bed<br>There the weeds and desolating dust spread<br>Unable to cope with the sultriness of the day<br>The children hide and do not play</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> <br>A dark shadow flits before me where I stand<br>Murmuring old themes of ancient biblical days<br>He holds a worn out book in his hand <br>Trance in delirium he conjures prophets in his prays</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> <br> <br>Oh lo, finally approaches an old city bus<br>Making its way heavily across a track of phantom city cars<br>Its image faint against countless closed shops and abandoned bars<br>Its engine vocals its core in a choir with a shuttered glass din<br>Oh bus, where so long have you been? <br>But thank God you came at last! <br>Blessed the Lord, you are real and well seen! </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">    copy rights 2010<br>    All rights reserved</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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<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=413202" data-title="Sacramento's sacraments de Isaac Ziv" data-description="Sacramento, Sacramento a city under twilight dusk
From your deserted streets the people one by one will not last
Where are all the lights and the young lads gone? 
Where are all the flowers and the nightly gowns? 
 
Solely and slowly the homeless..."></div>
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