Dom Moraes(b. 1938)
Snow on a Mountain
That dream, her eyes like rocks studded the high,
M o u n t a i n of her body that I was to climb.
O n e m o m e n t past my hands had swum
T h e chanting streams of her thighs:
T h e n I was lost, breathless among the pines.
Alone, alone with the nervous noise of water,
Climbing, I hoped to emerge on a path, but I knew
W h e n the spurred trees were past
I should go on no farther
But fall there, dazzled by the miles of snow.
My dream was broken by the knock of day.
Yet, within my mind, these pictures linger:
I touch her with my clumsy words of love
And sense snow in her eye,
Mists, and the winds that warn, Stranger, O stranger!