A Chateau's Gate
(i)
Out of air's
traffic rumble
and staccato
of jalopies,
blasting through
the loud mouths
of twisted
potholes and deep
gorges,
I knocked
softly
at a chateau's gate,
but heard
no life,
only twittering
birds talking
back
in muttered notes.
Only chirps
and lowered
tones
of shrieking
and screeching
breezy owls
bounced softly across,
the screaming
piha striking
its soft chord
in a thin
undulating voice
perched
on a whispered,
cutting peak.
And a striking
devouring
mantis' explosion,
only silence
creeping out
of a red-mouthed
volcano.
(ii)
I knocked again
with a scrubbing
sliding palm
hurling out
my louder voice,
But heard
only the low cheep
and chatter
of sparrows losing
their voice
to a soft whistling wind
thinning out
into a slithering
zephyr
melting into
tentacles of sound.
(iii)
But heard
only the stuttered
and smooth-
flowing trills
of toads
jumping at my pierced
ears deafened
by the spears
and needles
of their voices
sinking
softly through
skin and flesh
of a caved-out
attention
in flying wings,
but heard nobody
behind
the loud gate
clothed in silence,
full of bloat,
a thousand voices
screaming out
softly at me
silence is dressed
in the loudest
voice
of a pistol shrimp
and a thunderous
boom
with no mouth,
but a rainbow's reedy
flute burning
with narrow throat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem