Painted Greeks and soldiers
On the edge of time,
Melting in the rain.
w****s and philosophers,
Lonely ruders,
cold Bosphorean wind blows
the dying night.
Themistius, writer,
Consult, pagan
High librarian.
Witness of countless
fake emperors,
Cursed to save as much as I can
Before dawn.
I see it coming:
A new age
I didn’t call,
Nor asked for,
All is vain,
Every book carries
A destiny
Of pain.
Still I’ll try,
I cannot stop.
Like this rain,
Drop by drop.
Meaningless stars
Move around.
carry Rome
what will come.
Lucifer
Has raised
Nεa Pωμη
don’t be ‘fraid.