Ave Atque Vale by Michael Peter Leopold Hamburger

Moments remain, the sculpted, painted, drawn
Split second millennia long,
Current word silenced, ambered into song
Where nothing can change, no bee molest these petals
Which, met, undo me, leave me unborn or dead,
Unable to compare,
Let hand, make memory meddle.
Momentous did they seem? Not now, so still.
They are, are, are, are, are, the things I see
And will be when they’re lost, obliterated,
The model passed away,
On this old empty vase glazed patterns dance,
Above it fixed wings beat, the migrants’ flight.

Good morning, present, absent ones, good night.

From: http://www.theguardian.com/books/2004/jun/19/featuresreviews.guardianreview32

Date: 2004

By: Michael Peter Leopold Hamburger (1924-2007)

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