One mile down the drunken river
I lost my mind in her midday yellow haze.
Residues of the river-wind-kiss lingered saline on my face
Wild sun on the wild river scathed my skin copper
And I glided upstream in blurred eye sweat
Losing and finding the river’s mangrove shore.
My mind in delirious mess wondered
What it was that wined the river, made her a swirling detachment,
Bearing all with the endurance of a drunkard
But embracing nothing like an all foregoing monk.
I dreamed adrift one more mile and then another
Till I was windswept and wined like the drunken river.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The drunken river can be never ending. A great poem.