Windswept memos go beneath feet underwhere
Culls my soil's grave to tuck dreamt longings
Further sown than widely known to shoot up blades.
Like any other cover...
All soil is a veil of no avail.
No season escapes frequent returns of
Thoughts leaving soon to nest with the loner child
Who, as a wayward summer rose, up may
Spring through the snowdrift...
My heartbeats are servant drum-chants
Raising huge aural trestles to guide
Safely strayward my infantine preoccupations
That navigate this vessel of flesh
Distilling a tranquil boyhood unhappiness
Into bottles lying near the dry ravine
Where paper food-wrappers tease mourning
Fingers to caress as abandoned floats
The debris of don't-forget-me notes
Left by the vanished water, its absent
Flow aroma of irretrievable rhythms
Takes nature home everywhere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent Poet Ten dr. sakti Please read my Amnesia series 1-5 and comment and rate if you please.