Sunday, October 16, 2011

Oscar Wilde - 1854/1900 - Esperanza


Besieged personalities.
Favored essences.
Light transparent not.

Witness to the light and splendor was she,
Before fame that she bore,
Became shame that she wore,
Mixed with Truth,
Bitter harmony.

Wise man make a vision,
Out of darkness's spite.
Wise man make provision,
Lest heaven pierce gloom's night,
And like some faded Greek tale,
Wear a mask that fits all too easily.

There comes a point when all the art
Is nothing more than anger.

To this less than all too mortal world
A final scene is written.

And Esperanza speaks.
No. Esperanza weeps.
For the sorrow that he brought.
For the morrow that he wrought.
False idols to did he pray?
Gone now. Shattered clay.

(It is said that on the night of his mother's death; Oscar Wilde had a vision of her in his jail cell. I take poetic license with her pen name Speranza and add an E. The Spanish word esperanza translates as expectancy and or hope.)

Article Source: New York 1978

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