The love not spoken of
Newcastle and it was summer I had been paid off
from my ship and sat a the train station waiting for
a train to take me to Liverpool when a young man
came and sat near me. He was beautiful the nearest
I have been to human perfection and we spoke
about life, we were going to a cabin somewhere in
a Scottish hill but he didn`t like to be alone and his
large brown eyes looked mournful and I was ready
to join him, but said nothing because he if I followed
the boy would turn out to be human and demanding
a type of attention I could not give without corruption
His train left before mine I waved and that was that,
when I arrived a Lime street station I was drunk and
spent a night with a prostitute and she killed a beautiful
man sitting alone in a cabin in some god- forsaken dale.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem