Ash is solemn sobriety
and
a birthlong cultivated contrition
Wednesday is felicitous midweek
for backward-and-forward-looking
over every individual day
every roundly reflexive doing
of week-life
And there are emotive memories
of non-imputable days
when mother-clinging lads
queued enchantedly up
for inscription with the ascetic season
immersion in mindful mournfulness
saddled in sack clothes
Now perfumed participants
pricey ointment
poured on their heads
their foreheads
take in choice cosmetic stride
ash-shines
of cultured contrition.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem