L’IMBRUNIRE
Summer slows down at September’s edge
The city silent
& in the sloe
scapular of twilight
A thin, crisp seam of smoke
You can almost hear the crack & splinter
Of summer’s gold aflame, see the sunburnt shell
Man beside it strange
But what if any is
The negative nature of shade
They used to keep an empty space
Should a god or their beloved
Come. What you’ve left is raw & will stay
A setting. It’s there for you, it’s ready
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IRACUNDIOR ADRIA
Quiet city colder now Straw-like the lazy air Bronze, then burgundy Then another red called lust When not wine & all The country autumn Clothed. Lazy the bronze Like air lay burgundy, then ash But disquieted of all hands soon You were & weary, restless The sleepless nights swam Away caesuraed, islanded Abroad by echoes to further & Such mourning songs Where shall I take my love She sang, when you won’t have it, where
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ALEXANDER BOOTH lives in Rome. A recipient of a 2012 PEN Heim Translation Fund Grant for translations from the German poetry of Lutz Seiler, poems and translations have most recently appeared online and in print at Asymptote, Dear Sir, FreeVerse, Konundrum and Modern Poetry in Translation. In addition, he keeps a weblog on (mostly) Rome in literature and Roman literature, Misera e stupenda città. Work can also be found at Wordkunst.
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Read more work by Alexander Booth:
Three poems at Konundrum
Two poems at FreeVerse
Five translations at Asymptote