From: Share in the Sun (1996)
Bee-Hive Tombs (The Ancestors)
Still like prayers or
Like incense in a crisis of calm
Stripped of gaze, stripped of fear
Acrid in body and unarmed in soul
Dead that waited for someone to be found
To cover them and blind dream of a little earth
In rooms stripped of light and empty of ways
On their fingernails the echo writhes
On a marble slab they lay to sleep
Their mother's unburied dead
An Antigone robust from her load
Stands by their hides and their shells
Stalking the light from the unburied
Men in the entrance guard the half-light
Her senseless waiting that never became
Nor was ever meant to become lamentation
Translated by David Connolly
Page(s) 193-194
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