Max Fomitchev-Zamilov, Poetry

Максим Фомичёв-Замилов, поэзия

The isle of Capri has two sides.

One side is port.
The port inhales arriving tourists
like an addict does cocaine,
then spits them out
into an endless gut of entertainment.

This sight reminds me the process of digestion.
The gut is long.
The thrill is cheap.
The crowds run amok,
and souvenirs burst through shelves
like wounds through Saint Sebastian.

The crowds crave delights and entertainment!
They bleach the walls with their hungry eyes
and gnaw on sights like lions gnaw on bones,
then hurry to depart in ferries.

What little holiness there was
lies desecrated.

The other side is rocks.
The rocks that laugh at ocean waves,
the rocks that challenge wind,
the rocks that challenge time,
the rocks that break faint-hearted.

These rocks propel the island on its shoulders.
These rocks support the trees.
These rocks give life to gardens.
These rocks make up the Isle of Capri.

Which side is yours?
Which choice is yours?

First climb through life
then climb the rocks of Capri.

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