Triste, Triste

In the space between love and sleep

when heart mourns in its prison

eyes against shoulder keep

their blood-black curtains tight.

Body rolls back like a stone, and risen

spirit walks to Easter light;

away from its tomb of bone,

away from the guardian tents

of eyesight, walking alone

to unbearable light with angelic

gestures. The fallen instruments

of its passion lie in the relic

darkness of sleep and love.

And heart from its prison cries

to the spirit walking above:

'I was with you in agony.

Remember your promise of paradise,'

and hammers and hammers, 'remember me.'

This version taken from 'The Penguin Book of Australian Verse' Edited with an introduction by Harry Heseltine.Thanks to Maybe Oneday, one of our readers.