Triste Triste

In the space between love and sleepwhen heart mourns in its prisoneyes against shoulder keeptheir blood-black curtains tight.

Body rolls back like a stone, and risenspirit walks to Easter light;away from its tomb of bone,away from the guardian tentsof eyesight, walking aloneto unbearable light with angelicgestures.

The fallen instrumentsof its passion lie in the relicdarkness of sleep and love.

And heart from its prison criesto the spirit walking above:'I was with you in agony.

Remember your promise of paradise,'and hammers and hammers, 'remember me.'This version taken from 'The Penguin Book of Australian Verse' Edited with an introduction by Harry Heseltine.

Thanks to Maybe Oneday, one of our readers.