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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=471317" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Built a Citadel to Burn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The superfluity of adamant nights and babel of storms<br>Tarried and wrecked the quietude of my sleepy home<br>Desperately I groped for a banister, for a reeling rope<br>A lynch for long abeyance or a pallid streak of hope<br>But this town is already a wraith of its own ghosts<br>And perish is near, unabashed to morph a colossus form</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Brick atop a brick, a tourniquet of bastion I built<br>Endeavoring to feign the contours of a thousand mirth<br>And vie I did, to an assuaging forget but not to flee<br>From the peremptory entice of effulgent revelries<br>And a shadow I casted, never shall falter nor tilt<br>And becoming the verve of the citadel I built</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The soulless lullaby of bulwark walls err shan't<br>Dark shall fade, storms shall beat and die to pant<br>A safeguard from the descrying coruscations of light<br>Sequestering with its shadows, unfurling many a terror<br>Of veritable sorrows that yonder facilely linger<br>And these walls, like sleep and lullaby, only lulls my horror</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The corridors protract in a labyrinthine vast<br>Succumbing all echoing calls in the patina to rust<br>The lofty ceiling looms and jarringly taunts<br>To beguile you of depth, and of ravine haunts<br>Even the chandeliers tinker mendaciloquence<br>To superimpose the bliss I heed for defense</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Outside the portcullis, nil can penetrate<br>Inside the halls, beckons of lone are desperate<br>Nary a chance the adversary could shuffle<br>To bring this cordon down to its graceful topple<br>Such aggrandized fortress perhaps can save<br>The king I made from a doggedly slave</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As the king that I was exultantly revels inside<br>Comported by the hearth and his sovereign's stride<br>The coals of fire beckons in charred cinders<br>A crown of thorns once worn that never quavers<br>And of the present yet remote storm and dark forlorn<br>Inside his simpers and under his throne</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The suppressing citadel throttled inside <br>His black and dying heart long put aside<br>Insensitive to the fray of the city and of his own<br>The phantoms roused from their stiff reckon<br>How sad was he in his contrived perpetuity<br>Filling the void by burying all that he was in a city</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Secluded and protected it was, idyllic not quite<br>The sedations will ebb to fade out in the blight<br>And lone inside his walls of salient divide<br>A grave, a cage, succumbed by his own tide<br>And so tonight, despite late and futile<br>The king built a citadel to burn and born his plight</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Norman+Santos">Norman Santos</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=471317" data-title="I Built a Citadel to Burn de Norman Santos" data-description="The superfluity of adamant nights and babel of storms
Tarried and wrecked the quietude of my sleepy home
Desperately I groped for a banister, for a reeling rope
A lynch for long abeyance or a pallid streak of hope
But this town is already a wraith..."></div>
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