By Nirina Mignon
Forsworn of charism, which by vow’s diminish steals not to Charybdis,
Borne by ripple of stagnant repose, but exiles by traitorous kiss.
Inviolate bode and banished constitution, in dormancy of earth hid,
Resolved from polite clamor, never wan by seasons’ bid.
Ah! Hadst thou not tarried at Lethe, and heavied the pail,
Clement would be the nightly arras, safe from thy bewail.
Wear thus the nosegay of thy sorrows strewn;
Let there be a fumigation of dust and libation of envious rheum;
Hear the tear’s invasion through the vein of hollow walls,
Replicating its chorus of crystalline calls.
Under the carillon’s silicate shimmer, its dirge of jadis,
I must ask, Quis salvabis, furorumque anima spiraculumque Agaris?