The arch of a mellowed pain
in a yellow breast;
the ingrown stub of a broken hand;
the harvest of a corpulent festering wound;
the lies that pry a brain apart: masquerading truth;
and the bitter engagements of life -
a penman's gems!
Have you seen a poet weave and mesh
the sordidness of the kitsch
and the cliche,
in the crown of a sea-nymph?
The glorious monsters he tames
into splendid obedient beasts -
pale as a young cotton bud
milked on blood?
Of an order of warriors
which has lost and found
the meaning of war:
Oh! the eternal,
unshakeable malignance of inconsequence;
I descend;
carrying in a sheath of wrath
the albatross: my pen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear Akhil...u have got a way with your words and ur poem is far better than many i read today...outstanding work: -)