Robert Donohue | The Devil's Lament

The Devil's Lament


A cricket play his built-in violin,
He plays again his repertoire of notes.
What good is innocence without the sin?

One thing will end, anothor will begin,
The gnats light up like end of summer motes.
A cricket plays his built-in violin.

A leaf's turned brown and that's the fall creeping in
On endless summer Mary's shrine connotes.
What good is innocence without the sin?

Does summer ask the autumn where it's been?
It's welcoming, and like at lover dotes.
A cricket plays his built-in violin.

And fills the end of summer with his din,
A hollow melody not his, but rote's.
What good is innocence without the sin?

The summer sun will set and twilight dim
And days will come and go without our voices.
A cricker plays his built-in violin.
What good is innocence without the sin?

by Robert Donohue

Robert Donohue lives on Long Island where he works as a school custodian. He has featured at The Back Fence and his poetry has appeared in Measure which publishes metrical, English-language verse from both the United States and abroad, The Evansville Review which has also published poems of Billy Collins and The Raintown Review which focuses on sonnets, villanelles and triolets. He studied poetry at S.U.N.Y Oswego with Lewis Turco and lived for two years in Atlanta Ga. working on an independent film.

Goethe | Robert Kramer | The Death of Fly

The Death of a Fly

Greedily she sucks the treacherous drink,
not stopping, seduced by the first sip from the brim.
Although she feels quite well, long since each link
is paralyzed in each fine and delicate limb.
Her little wings she can no longer clean,
her little head she can no longer preen.
And thus she's lost in pleasure's cup,
for now her feet can scarcely hold her up.
Thus she sucks, and even as she drinks,
upon her thousand eyes the death mist sinks.

by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1974 -1832
Translated by Robert Kramer

[Fleigentod]

Sie saugt mit Gier verrätrisches Getränke
Unabgesetzt, vom ersten Zug verführt;
Sie fühlt sich wohl, und längst sind die Gelenke
Der zarten Beinchen schon paralysiert,
Nicht mehr gewandt, die Flügelchen zu putzen,
Nicht mehr geschickt, das Köpfchen aufzustutzen,
Das Leben so sich im Genuß verliert.
Zum Stehen kaum wird noch das Füßchen taugen;
So schlürft sie fort, und mitten unterm Saugen
Umnebelt ihr der Tod die tausend Augen.




Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was a German poet, playwright, novelist, courtier, and natural philosopher and according to George Eliot, "Germany's greatest man of letters… and the last true polymath to walk the earth." Goethe's is best know for his tragic drama Faust written in two parts and The Sorrows of Young Werther (German Title: Die Leiden des jungen Werther). He also wrote the scientific text The Theory of Colors and served at length as the Privy Councilor of the duchy of Weimar.




Robert Kramer is widely published poet, playwright, literary critic, and translator of European literature. He currently teaches art history at Manhattan College and is the authors of numerous articles and books on the history of art and literature.

Mary Elizabeth Clark | the little bumble bee

the little bumble bee

sleep
my little
bumble bee

sleep
the winter
through

sleep
my little
bumble bee

as little
bumbles
do

dream
my little
flower king

summer's
gone
away

now's the
time to rest
your wings

that dreams
may come
to thee

of tender
little rosy
blooms

my little
bumble
bee

by Mary Elizabeth Clark



Mary Elizabeth Clark likes bees, and besides bees she enjoys the company of butterflies, ladybugs, fireflies, and those tiny little moths. She has come a long way since the time she lost control of her two wheeler when a butterfly crossed her path. She was 4-years old then, and had developed this phobia as the result of a bad experience with a large and horrific member of the insect phylum. But as you can see from her poem, she is no longer squeemish about this most abundant life form.

© 1992 Mary Elizabeth Clark