Friday, August 23, 2013

The Omen By Mammedaty, 1880-1932


Another season centers on this place,
Like memory the blood congeals in it;
And like memory, too, the sun recedes
Into the hazy, southern distance.
A vagrant heat hangs on the dark river,
and shadows turn like smoke. An owl ascends
among the branches, clattering, remote
within its motion, intricate with age.