So, traveler, you've heard of us
on your travels. I'm not surprised.
Word travels fast, but actions even
faster. I should know, I've been
tending bar here for thirty years.
And I know what I know, namely,
there are no more miracles left to descend.
That amiable fate may be reserved for
other earths in the nocturnal depths
that hold us at the edge of our galaxy.
Oh, yes, tending bar is not my only
passion. Our view of the night sky
from Port Trakl makes us all astronomers...
But I have been told, eventually everyone
will pass through Port Trakl, and I will
look into their eyes for a brief moment.
but it will be sufficient. You must realize,
the helpless come here for the rumored
miracles. The hopeless come here to die
without any fuss. It is my mission to keep
the helpless from descending into the hopeless.
The sun will always bend toward darkness, it is
the nature of things. But the dawn, which begins
far out at sea, yes, you know what I mean,
the sun... rises over all of us.
I probably take too much liberty with my interpretations of your poetry. But that may be part of your intent. Thanks, Daniel
So I have wondered about the bartender after I read your first Port Trakl piece. I wonder why he thinks the way he does....why he feels the way he does towards his patrons? What is it like tending bar in Port Trakl? The perspectives you are providing are painting a colorful picture. The sun rises! :) What are the rumored miracles? Where does he go when he's not tending the bar? Why is he there? Why! :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Absolutely gorgeous. Sad dreamers, travellers, looking for a miracle in a place where all types of people go to looking for answers, knowing they will not find what they are looking for. Yet there is comfort in it, maybe in knowing that there are multiple people all looking for something more.