Witness Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
Witness
it is standing alone
in the shredded tailcoat
it is wielding in the wind
with old rag wreck
drooping from the back
as a twinge of conscience
and with sleeves in which at one time
hands lived
a black, indifferent to birds
sitting on in flight
faded witness
of the last delights
of the host
it has the new man now
it is only a scarecrow
such a life nothing...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 8:37:28 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Sad but real. Very well written. Recommendable to reading.