There he lies ... gargantuan giant sleeping
Hiding from the memories that keep him casting a circle of sadness around his bed,
The restless dead are waking as
The child within his form relives the touch cold ice marble of his fathers corpse
Dressed in Sunday best - there to lay the dead to rest
The people of the town are gathered - memories wavering
Each soul recalling their love for a man his child had never known.
How can he speak o those that surround him?
To those that call him friend yet would have him die for the sins of the world.
Have you ever walked alone?
Have you ever known desert heat burn blisters on your feet?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem