Cibola
The California sun
Streams from above
Beatifying us
In that old black & white snap
She reckless & rash
I timid,
Guarded
But full of yearning
Sucked into the middle
Of her every cyclone
Into her swift, swirling life
In our homemade cotton shifts
The immortal sun
Lay tender on our skins,
And the unexplored world
Spread glittering before us,
A city of gold
But then she was gone,
Never in my arms again
And now that city,
Long abandoned,
Lies in ruins
The winds of change
Savaging its battered windows
& Broken doors
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really enjoy your style and the subjects you choose. The life giving sun indeed reveals a new Cibola with each new dawn, .