Der Turmfalke - Poem by Leslie Philibert
The weight inside a dive; muscles work against the wind.
Motionless ignore the reduced; a quilt of cornfields,
bleached boxes of barns; holes full of gravel,
a mess of houses and lanes. So when
the heat rises and the earth scatters:
heed the hunter`s eyes, the blue irises,
the terrible beauty of the last seconds, sinking.
Comments about Der Turmfalke by Leslie Philibert
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.