Dawn pierces the black armour with lances
And primed grit forking lightning to split
The crack of thunder -
As wind steams and whistles like a kettle,
Sending roads yawing for cover 'neath grooves
Of grass bent like a kukri pass coconut trees
Casting Palms like protestants on Easter.
The bay is bold today and waves break
Their ribs on heads of peeping rocks -
While seashells ring their ears with fronds
And calls the bluff of starfish
Mangroves thread the water's edge
And through reef knots clamps and crabs
With muscles jostle
To gargling sounds of tide -
Rinsing the teeth of sand
Defiantly the cliffs stand silent and grey,
Like a duty rehearsed they know
The stage, the music, the orchestra,
They know today dragons will spit fire
Tomorrow the gods will walk on water.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is nice, Robert..