Canetti's Folly

His treason was said to be noble.  He kept alive

the works his friend tried to destroy.  But burning

would have recalled an auto-da-fe—the drive

to preserve such objets d’art was full of yearning,

his own stories and studies put aside

for the sake of this double, of art, of truth;

and, without knowing how all culture had died

in a greater inferno, he clutched, like a tiger’s tooth,

a fleeing gazelle, the heart of ancient words,

and continued to pretend there was a future, a hope

ensnared by bombs and bullets which, like birds

arising in an earthquake observe the little rope

we bind our bodies to before the storm

at sea, and they look down and laugh, and swarm.