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The tortoise tales
Pure but pale
Tale stories
Spanning three centuries - a tercentenary - long tourney, the testaments etched in its cracked shell...
Going softly
lorn and lonely
Sees youth at the brutal end
of the brute's cudgel - for it charms them.
Sees the aged are well spared
Having seen what pearl precious
Is life pious
And how death flees
The threshold of peace.
Who shall say comfort
To my far north?
Where bombs
rip ope the womb
Send lives therein
into tombs
For his enchantments, charm them... Death want their suits
As they are youths.
The tortoise has to look
Said they be fools...
As it lives still
In the king's palace
And has seen
Three centuries
In peace.