Prachtig

Charles Simic - The Oldest Child

The night still frightens you.

You know it is interminable

And of vast, unimaginable dimensions.

"That's because His insomnia is permanent,"

You've read some mystic say.

Is it the point of His schoolboy's compass

That pricks your heart?

Somewhere perhaps the lovers lie

Under the dark cypress trees,

Trembling with happiness,

But here there's only your beard of many days

And a night moth shivering

Under your hand pressed against your chest.

Oldest child, Prometheus

Of some cold, cold fire you can't even name

For which you're serving slow time

With that night moth's terror for company.