The compels basted
he forms bodies…
Ovid. Metamorphoses*
Investing frenzy of inspiration
In cold reason sage,
I walked into the crowd, fearless genius,
Knower of worlds to the end.
My inspiration from nature,
Olive groves and orchards and,
Branches to the floor leaning,
Dropped wet fruits.
And new-born mortals - now
I vaguely remember glitter crown
In my prison, in my desert,
In my powerless - until the end.
14 September 1900
St. Petersburg
__________
*Inspiration leads me to sing
transformation of bodies into new forms.
Obed. metamorphosis (lat.). - Red.
