A Grave Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
A Grave
The lights go out on Bullcock Beach at night,
gray as the past the waves come in to touch,
a drifter without food and without sight
goes through the bins to hope for something but not much.
And when the rooster calls an end to the charade
first rays start skirmishes with mist and lazy flies,
they show a paperbag-clad bottle in the shade
and once again it is the sea that never cries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 10:09:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
