Utu Man (4) Black Messenger

Black was his robe,
onyxes in his ears,
hematite beasts
hung on the reins
of his sable,
long-legged horse.

Mother ran inside
for bread and water.
He took off his helmet
and waited unmoving,
the sun burning hotter.

I watched him in fear,
unsure he wasn't a demon
picking our home
to snatch someone
or even stay here.

He took the water, but
not the bread.
He held the cup out
to his horse's head.
"And what about you?"
"No drink for the dead.

Sumu-la-ilu
never reached the sea.
Ninurta slew him
under the crying tree.
Soon there will be no
breach between him and me."

The clatter of hooves
ceased at the far end.
"A white messenger loves" -
my father said -
"his beer and loaves
of fresh-baked bread.

They give him gold
and a healthy woman,
there is no gap
between gods and him.

A black messenger is received
amid silence and tears,
heard out and stoned
with curses to death.

I've seen black messengers
ride through here to Babylon,
but I've never laid eyes
on a white one.

Black days of my life
have passed through here,
taking neither a loaf
of my bread, nor my beer.

Had they all made it
to Babylon,
there wouldn't be there
a single untainted
stone."

My father returned
to the house, to hide
from the blazing sun

that also rode,
all clad in white,
on a gush of wind
to Babylon.

Вланес, 2008

Сертификат Поэзия.ру: серия 790 № 60224 от 21.03.2008

0 | 0 | 2246 | 21.12.2024. 21:34:39

Произведение оценили (+): []

Произведение оценили (-): []