Afflatus

by Livingston Rossmoor

 

 

Where are you?

I have been looking for you.

I wake up early,

into the stable,

witness Helios sprucing up

Aethon, Eous, Phlegon, and Pyrois.

 

Eos informs every dew

the chill is over,

warmth,

shining warmth is coming.

 

You are not there.

 

I listen carefully,

if Orpheus is biding behind

Eastern Phoebe, red-breasted nuthatch…

rare glimpse of their last visit…

 

Still not there?

 

Where is the lyre of Erato?

In the “Prendi: l'anel ti dono,”* 

Bellini’s La sonnambula?

 

And you said,

if still not found,

it could be all faded,

like Maria Callas’ whispering,

“Ah! non credea mirarti

Si presto estinto, o fiore.”**

 

Oh! Tell me not your despair.

Just watch, watch,

Selene drives her moon chariot

across the heavens.

 

 

*Take: the ring I give you. 

**"I did not believe you would fade so soon, oh flower.” 

This final aria is inscribed on Bellini's tomb

in the Catania Cathedral in Sicily.