White feathers waft miles above
the pages of my book curl up
like thin white waves of ocean water
and a verdant border filled with leafy mouths
beckons, swishes and sways as if
forming a string of sentences
mankind could never hope, to decipher
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nika, I like it just the way it is as a 7-line poem with the precise evocative imagery. And what images they are! They're concrete and almost palpable, but when I try to get closer, they close up like flowers at night and hide their essence. Your poem is a celebration of those transient things we encounter but can't quite grasp, things that keep us alert and wondering, but never fully satisfy us because they are too elusive. Your poem makes me realize there are so many things that fit in this category of mystery, I haven't fully appreciated this aspect of reality. You see how your poem opened up my thinking in a very unexpected way. The view it reveals as as open-ended as the white feathers or the curled pages. I don't try to decipher this poem, I live within it. It's not about information, it's about inspiration.