How can you gather together <br />the thousand fragments <br />of each person? <br />What's wrong with the rudder? <br />The boat inscribes circles <br />and there's not a single gull. <br />The world sinks: <br />hang on, it'll leave you <br />alone in the sun. <br />You write: <br />the ink grew less, <br />the sea increases. <br />The body that hoped to flower like a branch, <br />to bear fruit, to become like a flute in the frost — <br />imagination has thrust it into a noisy bee-hive <br />so that musical time can come and torture it.<br /><br />Giorgos Seferis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lost-worlds/
