I am captured by bouts of sleep
Away from the toils of the day
Every strength I gather during the dreams
Some strong eagles raid and seize
And I am fifty five!
The eagles grey at plumes
And strong at beak even haunt my sleep
And wait for what it holds like dreams or so
I wake up in the many nights
I have dreamed
With nothing at hand to eat
Or give as tithe or alms.
The eagles live up above the sky
In great nests upon the big trees
And I here below in a hovel
Hardly any drops of their crumbs.
My country too is fifty five
But she is silent on my toils
And the eagles calm
And happy at my cycle of life.
My birth is plunged upon the land of boulders
High and low they lie
Where the predators love to be
I have stumbled in a bad fall
Prostrate and lame I lie
In the very watch of the eagles
And the next moment I'm gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very amazing and wisely composed poem shared here definitely. Amazingly captured by bouts of sleep...10