When the sky went that peculiar orange-pink
Grapefruit hue I sold all I had and ever needed,
To many market men at the golden bazaar.
With little gear; a simple side bag, sneakers,
Ambiguous black jacket and lean jeans I set off
Through midnight deserts and twilight forests.
At the beck and call of a latent moon and laconic
Tide I ventured east to your forgotten lands;
Passing priests and producers, solemn widows
And petty painters, orphaned children, San Fran
Junkie shakers, small time bakers and soothsayers,
Wizards and players alike, I noticed humanities gaze.
Through the craters of Chechnya to the empty beach
Views that desecrate Nice, I looked upon humanities
Gaze and a beacon; lighthouse trails on the road
To distant sands. When I finally crosses the oceans,
To the white cliffs and scarce land, north to the city
That now sleeps in all eternity; I found myself
In a quiet town, Finchley, in your arms.
I was home once more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem