in careful waddling
of measured steps,
our wearied thoughts
grope in the dark deafening silence
of a city that rarely speaks
the house is completely fallen,
the elders are searching,
who doesn't know
that the roof fell with it?
perhaps our long
lost hope would, this time,
find a sure stake to lean on
to reach our shattered
plight that wavers not
perhaps their treacherous search
would stumble on
our self-battered wooden ship
where they left her-
tempest-tost in the tidal waves
of heroes' blood
and perhaps, this time, she'd safely sail
shoreward………
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem