4.12.06

Tristia 3.8


Eugène Delacroix: Ovid among the Scythians (1859)


ut tetigi Pontum, uexant insomnia, uixque
ossa tegit macies nec iuuat ora cibus


Since I arrived
in Otherworld

I can’t sleep
anymore

I’ve starved myself
until my skin’s

like parchment
flaking off

like autumn leaves
my mind’s the same

it all comes down
to one defect

the wrong address

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