I've spent time
quiet,
with words
taking them apart
analyzing each character
each symbol
seeking meaning
in the way they curve together
bending sublime
into one another
like ancient rituals
done in dark places
with candles and incense
I've chewed the sticks and arcs
of letters
their turns smooth on the tongue
their points masticated in contemplation
between ignorant working class teeth
with slack jaws
yet there they sit
just words
piled high, with familiarity
from long ago
like the smell of a room
colored by tiredness
and exhaustion that seeps from pores
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Splendid piece of verse, here, Elia, and so masterfully expressed, as per your usual! ''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''FJR