Clouds scattered across the sky all so far away
and then the space between this strange 'distance'
What does 'normal' mean, after all? you move
toward the window lights marking the headland
and the night becomes a milestone though
I the fog rolls up the hill from the sea
in waves the town desperate?
Whichever way we look though so much at hand
only held back by obsessions
but 'home' is so long ago don't cry
the light's a very pale blue then maybe the next time too
a faint glimmer across the bay neither moon
nor stars
and your letter making signs concerning 'understanding'
and 'the magic tortoise' what then? or just tiredness
At each alternative the colours in the sky
gradually changing until you're lulled into believing
you've seen this before but not quite
The wood-cut of a lone horseman
riding through a deathly countryside raped
'You're very brave' I clean the table-top
and you sat in that chair two red poppies
in the garden below at dawn
This apparent clumsiness is far from true
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem