A burnt land; dark suited,
black with gravel,
frames deep in a white sky
all green stolen
or schooled; the fat glove of heat,
heart`s oven; sea-foam as steel
all bowed and tired and full of
wet salt; under the waves
a requiem of sand, the
ancient sinking of dunes,
old twins of blossom and sword,
salt palms as dry signs
around the angular blocks: silencio:
leaving is a small death, the rub,
traces of sealight
a wash of water and sticks,
a requested place,
a bodyguard of chained smiles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem