---

Zbigniew Herbert - Lament
Work rating: Low

To the memory of my mother

And now she has over her head brown clouds of roots
a slim lily of salt on the temples beads of sand
while she sails on the bottle of a boat through foaming nebulas

A mile beyond us where the river turns
visible-invisible as the light on a wave
truly she isn`t different—abandoned like all of us.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.