At Granite Island’s seaward side
We sat, and watched the surging tide,
The rapid rip, the capping crest,
The stinging spray, the ragged nest;
The long slow wheel of the sea bird, moaning,
The deep-felt urge of the white sea, foaming.
You laid your head on me, and cried:
'How long, how long? ' And I replied:
'This day is ours, and for the rest….
Ah well, ' I sighed, and sought your breast;
You turned, long-lost at the deep shades forming
While I caught tears at the tip of day, dawning.
12 October 1980
This quite a poem Well done. Primitive but also from the heart with the references to nature making it universally understandable I would have given it 20 if that was possibleYou have been quite active lately a sign of something significnat going on inside you Writing poetry for me anyway, is very therapeutic Susan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I meant to add being conceived during the Second World War adds some sort of layer to ones psyche I was 22 12 48 Susan