Iris Dement - It's Not With A Lover's Lyre / The Muse Тексты

It's not with a lover's lyre, not at all.
That I go around, attracting a crowd.
It's the rattle with which lepers crawl
That in my hands keeps singing aloud.

Where nothing Is needed, I walk like a child,
My shadow serves as the friend I crave.
The wind breezes out of a grove gone wild,
And my foot is on the edge of the grave.

the muse

All that I am hangs by a thread tonight
as I wait for her whom no one can command
Whatever I cherish most—youth, freedom, glory-
fades before her who bears the flute
in her hand.

And look! she comes...she tosses back her veil,
staring me down. serene and pitiless.
"Are you the one," I ask, "whom Dante heard
dictate the lines of his Inferno?"
She answers: "Yes.'