gri_2003_m_46_b03_f08_030
- Max. dissimilarity: 0.052
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.031
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- 65882027 - not-logged-in-f17aa9abeac55a21c757
- WINNER - 66024796 - scisawiz
- 66068250 - StarSister
- 66140863 - not-logged-in-edc1d4306ac07308ef76
- 66205209 - xuelee
- 66227202 - teresaanne
65882027 - not-logged-in-f17aa9abeac55a21c757
Polydor (iii)One poet has kicked in the panels and can hear
The roar of water from the room beyond
And, in the afternoon, the stamp of horses
On alternate floors of sand and marble.
Poet of the anthology of nights,
Glimmering sentry of the Egyptian door,
Do the wards of the lock yield to your prick
On the festival of the burning wind.
Poet of the Gothic door, absolve
My classical shoulder of old allegiance:
The ogee panels curve like wings and lead
Swiftly to a vanishing point of stars.
Poet of the revolving doors, who
Goes round in the panels and keeps appearing,
Skull and skin, belle and bone?
Vertiginous gamut of the Dance of Death.
Poet of the bead-curtain and the turnstile,
Does the entrance culminate
In Chinese and athletic marvels
Fabulous in cages of the eye?
One poet hangs a trapezee from the lintel
And swings against the door like an impulse.
It does not yield and he remains fixated
Rigid as a monumental sculpture.
Sentinel of a door marked Et In Arcadia Ego,
Erudite poet, answer the first person,
Do the words on your door glow at night
Or can you remember the matter till the dawn?
WINNER - 66024796 - scisawiz
Polydor (iii)One poet has kicked in the panels and can hear
The roar of water from the room beyond
And, in the afternoon, the stamp of horses
On alternate floors of sand and marble.
Poet of the anthology of nights,
Glimmering sentry of the Egyptian door,
Do the wards of the lock yield to your prick
On the festival of the burning wind.
Poet of the Gothic door, absolve
My classical shoulders of old allegiances:
The ogee panels curve like wings and lead
Swiftly to a vanishing point of stars.
Poet of the revolving doors, who
Goes round in the panels and keeps appearing,
Skull and skin, belle and bone?
Vertiginous gamut of the Dance of Death.
Poet of the bead-curtain and the turnstile,
Does the entrance culminate
In Chinese and athletic marvels
Fabulous in cages of the eye?
One poet hangs a trapezee from the lintel
And swings against the door like an impulse.
It does not yield and he remains fixated
Rigid as a monumental sculpture.
Sentinel of a door marked Et In Arcadia Ego,
Erudite poet, answer the first person,
Do the words on your door glow at night
Or can you remember the matter till the dawn?
66068250 - StarSister
Polydor (iii)One poet had kicked in the panels and can hear
The roar of water from the room beyond
And, in the afternoon, the stamp of horses
On alternate floors of sand and marble.
Poet of the anthology of nights,
Glimmering sentry of the Egyptian door,
Do the wards of the lock yield to your prick
On the festival of the burning wind.
Poet of the Gothic door, absolve
My classical shoulders of old allegiances:
The ogee panels curve like wings and lead
Swiftly to a vanishing point of stars.
Poet of the revolving doors, who
Goes round in the panels and keeps appearing,
Skull and skin, belle and bone?
Vertiginous gamut of the Dance of Death.
Poet of the bead-curtain and the turnstile,
Does the entrance culminate
In Chinese and athletic marvels
Fabulous in cages of the eye?
0ne poet hangs a trapeze from the lintel
And swings against the door like an impulse.
It does not yield and he remains fixated
Rigid as a monumental sculpture.
Sentinel of a door marked Et In Arcadia Ego,
Erudite poet, answer the first person,
Do the words of your door glow at night
Or can you remember the matter till the dawn?
66140863 - not-logged-in-edc1d4306ac07308ef76
One poet has kicked in the panels and can hear the roar of water from the room beyond and, in the afternoon, the stamp of horses on alternate floors of sand and marble.Poet of the anthology of nights, glimmering sentry of the Egyptian door, do the wards of the lock yield to your prick on the festival of the burning wind.
Poet of the Gothic door, absolve my classical shoulders of old allegiances: the ogee panels curve like wings and lead swiftly to a vanishing point of stars.
Poet of the revolving doors, who goes round in the panels and keeps appearing, skull and skin, belle and bone? Vertiginous gamut of the Dance of Death.
Poet of the bead-curtain and the turnstile, does the entrance culminate in Chinese and athletic marvels fabulous in cages of the eye?
One poet hangs a trapeze from the lintel and swings against the door like an impulse. It does not yield and he remains fixated rigid as a monumental sculpture.
Sentinel of a door marked Et In Arcadia Ego, Erudite poet, answer the first person, do the words on your door glow at night or can you remember the matter till the dawn?
66205209 - xuelee
Polydor (iii)One poet has kicked in the panels and can hear
The roar of water from the room beyond
And, in the afternoon, the stamp of horses
On alternate floors of sand and marble.
Poet of the anthology of nights,
Glimmering sentry of the Egyptian door,
Do the wards of the lock yield to your prick
On the festival of burning wind.
Poet of the Gothic door, absolve
My classical shoulders of old allegiances:
The ogee panels curve like wings and lead
Swiftly to a vanishing point of stars.
Poet of the revolving doors, who
Goes round in the panels and keeps appearing,
Skull and skin, belle and bone?
Vertiginous gamut of the Dance of Death.
Poet of the bead-curtain and the turnstile,
Does the entrance culminate
In Chinese and athletic marvels
Fabulous in cages of the eye?
One poet hangs a trapezee from the lintel
And swings against the door like an impulse.
It does not yield and he remains fixated
Rigid as a monumental sculpture.
Sentinel of a door marked Et Arcadia Ego,
Erudite poet, answer the first person,
Do the words on your door glow at night
Or can you remember the matter till the dawn ?
66227202 - teresaanne
Polydor (iii)One poet has kicked in the panels and can hear
The roar of water from the room beyond
And, in the afternoon, the stamp of horses
On alternate floors of sand and marble.
Poet of the anthology of nights,
Glimmering sentry of the Egyptian door,
Do the wards of the lock yield to your prick
On the festival of the burning wind.
Poet of the Gothic door, absolve
My classical shoulders of old allegiances:
The ogee panels curve like wings and lead
Swiftly to a vanishing point of stars.
Poet of the revolving doors, who
Goes round in the panels and keeps appearing,
Skull and skin, belle and bone?
Vertiginous gamut of the Dance of Death.
Poet of the bead-curtain and the turnstile,
Does the entrance culminate
In Chinese and athletic marvels
Fabulous in the cages of the eye?
One poet hangs a trapeze from the lintel
And swings against the door like an impulse.
It does not yield and he remains fixated
Rigid as a monumental sculpture.
Sentinel of a door marked Et In Arcadia Ego,
Erudite poet, answer the first person,
Do the words on your door glow at night
Or can you remember the matter till the dawn?