poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

Look at the lion in the iron cage,
look deep into his eyes:
              like two naked steel daggers
              they sparkle with anger.
But he never loses his dignity
              although his anger
                     comes and goes
                              goes and comes.

You couldn't find a place for a collar
round his thick, furry mane.
Although the scars of a whip 
        still burn on his yellow back
his long legs
           stretch and end
        in the shape of two copper claws.
The hairs on his mane rise one by one
                 around his proud head.
His hatred
        comes and goes
                 goes and comes ...

The shadow of my brother on the wall of the dungeon
       moves 
              up and down
                        up and down.

Added: 16 Jan 2002 | Last Read: 9 Jan 2009 3:30 AM | Viewed: 2516 times

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