Tonight
I look at the full moon
I gaze in delight over the shadows
among the tamarind trees
stray-dogs are crying mournfully
howling in the heated air
in the cemetery where the graves
are silent like the tombs
coffins do not want to disturb
the quiet sound of the graveyard
it is transparent
xenophobia lingers among the dead
and silence is golden like a sleep
without a dream
I hold the marbled cross
where a wreath is hung
and wonder who will die tonight
I look everywhere for footprints
where mounds of fresh earth
care less of the environment
I will stake-out here like the wind
until the moon goes to rest
and dogs no longer chant with the spirit
and wonder who will die tonight
every Thursday night someone will die
so be it, as always.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem