Have Pity On Us


By Pavel Chichikov

My heart's delight has nothing in it

A belt drawn tightly round a shade

Elms decaying grow within it

Flourishing as God first made

Mottled sparrows hopping first

Then a roost of pigeons flying

Birds might never quench their thirst

If rain from heaven stopped complying

Ice in weeping summer blocks

Shouldered up in iron tongs

Ice against the window knocks

Winter's single note prolonged

Slowly then in summer souls

Finish dapples turning brown

Antlers swell within the poll

Rise in rutting, clack and wound

End my ending, there beginning

Since my April start again

Where's the child who starts by sinning

Heart of elm will not defend?


(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)

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