Across the world's ocean bottom, the wrecks of sunken ships are sleeping forever. Drowned into the sand, the dark masts, cannon's shafts.. piercing the silent blur.
The frozen ghosts, crew nightmares, soldiers' blood - the purple breath inhaled by world soil, the millions of bones drawn into the ground, mingling with bushes, forest roots. The barren trees building a basement of flashing towns. With lush avenues, the skeleton remains
Their lives, memories, and dreams.. plunged into warm air, like invisible mist, hazy steam. The chunks of clouds whispering to the wind. Poets' songs sailing above
The creeks gleamy streams - flowers cut under moonlight bathing over ponds with water lilies
The snowflakes storm, a dense flock of flies, black upon the grey sky, turning into tiny white, the petals
Scattered among leaden clouds - the coming spring, like crumbles over table pouring out the dried bread piece. It war or peace?
04/02/2016 © Neran Sati
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem