In bed last night
I heard the clock ticking
Curt words that sounded
Like icicles snapping.
Like a record
Skipping, skipping,
On the drums of my ears, I
Heard my tired heart beating.
Then, like waves
Crashing a slant of beach
And darkly receding, the strophe/
Anti-strophe of my own breathing.
Add to that the wail
Of the Metro-North train, passing-
Quite a medley, really. Quite
A concert, the Metro-North train chiming in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem