(no subject)

Invocation

I ask, O Muse, what you cannot grant,

That you infuse the pure into the impure,

That you pour the divine into the impious,

That you contaminate Mind with paranoia,

That you put the living among lifeless automata,

That you cast the innocent into the devouring pit,

That you condemn the noble to be mocked,

That you send a redeemer to the damned,

I ask, O Muse, that you send poetry into this world.

(no subject)

Here even the brids

Wear freedmen’s caps

And the Crows shout out

When the Lord will Return,

Here where the mice gnaw iron,

What need is there for the

Mirific Word?

Recusatio

Recusatio

No excuses do I make for neglecting epic

To my master the Emperor.

The iridescence of lyric does not distract me,

The purgative power of drama does not drain me,

The limping boy does not fill me with love.

I have no recusation to make.

I confess my incompetence.

The face that launched a thousand ships

I am too dull to describe.

The Heroes’ returns I would stumble over.

I am too dimwitted to follow the Euxine path of the Argo,

Too banal to narrate the birth of my nation,

The vicissitudes of its civil strife,

The pristine glory of its empire.

I can but lament for myself.