The afterlife is blue, this change
of thirst. A figure
approaches a
greater, bluer movement,
yet
heaven is not
the afterlife. Pouring
heaven into
the vessel, a current, absorbed until
the figure begins to bathe here,
unstill, in
the color—
who
drank as it
washed her body. Who reached in
her hand
to soothe the onrush.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Pouring heaven into the vessel, a current, absorbed until the figure begins to bathe here, unstill, in the color— who drank as it washed her body. Beautiful poem with such a great theme.Loved it and enjoyed. 10+ for the sharing of the lovely poem. Subhas