Tomas Venclova’s poem

Villanelle

Desist, desist. The crumbling sentence dies.
The rooftops’ limit verges on the dawn.
The snow speaks forth, the fire in fugue replies.
 
The swinging of the pendulum subsides;
The leaden counterbalance marks the ground.
Desist, desist. The crumbling sentence dies.
 
Reflected in the mirror’s wasteland eyes,
Instead of the world, an outline gleams alone.
The snow speaks forth, the fire in fugue replies.
 
And back into the cell the captive strides,
And skywards wades the fencing of the zone.
Desist, desist. The crumbling sentence dies.
 
A grain of time, a splinter of the skies
Envelops both our bodies, like a globe.
The snow speaks forth, the fire in fugue replies.
 
All clings to faces, but to vaporize,
And bed-heads do not make an angel’s throne.
Desist, desist. The crumbling sentence dies.
The snow speaks forth, the fire in fugue replies.