I
I've always felt parted, as from the twin
Since the memory begin - that pain
Never waning, sprawling in a shadow,
Bathing behind the courtain -
As ever sweltering sun, all mine!
II
Couldn't that feel be embracing others?
Fellows peers chums?
Weren't they separated for true, since their
First dawn, or only felt so?
Could it be, that they consumed their twin
Brother, little sister - yet in mother's womb?
Or, did the mother abort few times in a raw?
Wouldn't that mean, as they've been never
overcoming
It hidden cost, the ruthless law?
III
Let that passed to them unknown, couldn't they
Stay' warned by nasty dreams evil visions?
Recycling those dread twists, like a dug tomb
Wherein their dearest many times were thrown?
That craddle swaying off the nightmares!
IV
For they may've never faced the chance to
Cope with remorse on this wild truth -
Humanity just couldn't get more real root!
But altruism? What a poor gain for the lonely boot!
Yet, only symbol first kept an imperial look
Till old age - by face lift - playing youth!
V
What a spring of inexhaustible hope, the glow!
Like some most laborious a maid, ready to
Withstand the heaviest load, for days and nights
And, as nowhere from coming her respite -
She still woudn't care, neither she'd sorrow
Open to die, by tomorrow!
Dec 7- 8,2015
The poem is difficult to understand. Are you writing about a woman who refused to have a child because it would make her feel old? I normally like doing a little work, but in this case, the message is hopelessly muddled, camouflaged neatly both on purpose with a cryptic style, but also by fractured sentences and what seems to be a less-than-total mastery of English. That being said, I still suspect your poem is excellent, and only needs a few minor repairs to reach full-bloom. This poem is ingeniously crafted, and I truly enjoyed it. Be proud of it.
Bryan, I'm happy that you nevertheless, value and enjoyed the poem, for that is what really matters. Thanks!
I see you've many several edits. I don't think the changes hurt it. It's a little easier on the eyes... It's a terrific poem, with lots to digest. It's a bit too much for me, though. I read your explanation of the poem... maybe I can't relate to it because of its esoteric nature...? or maybe I'm just a moron.
Thanks so much for the straight and kind comment. I'm writing about the painful solitude and different possibilities of its cause: loosing sibs as twins or preceding abortions, as likely natural cause for that feeling (II) , but also of ensuing nightmares (III) . All that if recognized, would probably abolish the charge of individual altruism as a suffering variant of the „she“ glorious humanity - likely blossoming from similar personal root (IV) . Part V is just an allegory of that hope as laborius maid. But instead of intended imagery, it got confusing within confines of „less-than-total“ mastery: -) . Sorry for that, I would really welcome any suggestion resolving the muddles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I try to explain two major leaps. First in IV, introducing humanity and altruism - born by idea that deep solitude feel may result from an unrecognized early sib loss, that later evolves into altruistic feel or, spiritually to humanistic attitude. The latter being favoured by society as a valuable cohesive symbol, but often only in words. That's why in V it practice is being compared with hard working maid ready to die, as we are witnessing nowadays.