The Transitory
I swam across a field,
an ocean of chlorophyll
time stopped,
so did I; looked back, lost faith
and sank into greenness
that took my breath away.
Fear helped me up to the surface
and I swam to the lane,
dried myself on thistles that
burned my skin dry,
sat under an olive tree,
waited for my youth to join me;
it didn’t make it
and I lamented the passing
of eternity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem