It is not speaking that breaks our silence,
but the anxiety to be heard. Thomas Merton
***
In chilled twilight swells
the chorus overwhelming
echoing passion,
half of water, half
of leafy bank, the night they
fill with lusty will,
persistent, straining
these marshland poets converge,
anxious to be heard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem