THE POETS

…And to begin with,
they were invincible.

Also translucent, as the mist at sunrise,
Or an azure dream -- yet everlasting.

In communion with cosmic suffering,
Yet,
Garbed in the robes of ecstasy,
They take a stand
On the last (also first),
old and yet-to-be-born
lonely planet…

They are born on each daybreak,
Baptized always
in the holy rain
And bathing in the blue of the skies
They drain the goblet of life with faith
in renascent bliss.

Varand
Translated By: Tatul Sonentz