I watch the bleating evening clouds
Explain themselves to soaring trees
Who wield their sticks on swaying knees.
They told me hills were chill and green
They said that they could be so brown
Or purple from afar but none
Had said that they could grab the sun
And make a fireplace in the east
While in the west-a brand new beast
Dark huddled trees like ancient men
Who nurse bare baboons in their hair
They sway to music all their own
For I am yet to learn their song.
And now the moon requests some sky
As shattered stars announce her stage
I watch the bleated clouds resign
Cling closer as they go to sleep.
28-07-2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem