The
Mask
It
Lies
Still
Breathless
Yellow
Pale
It
Be
The night
Not in the cemetery
But
The
Mask
Of
A
Sudden
Slowly breathes.
Too late
Too late
The spell be far
Away
Gone
Binoculars spied
The coming Dawn
The coming day.
The waters that
Rustled
Rocks
At
Night
By the old fort
Are
Now
Subdued
And
Tame
Before the reign
Oncoming reign
Of Dawn
New blood warm of
New day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem