We were made to accept it would be horrific
Every small fancy, every niggling urge,
Every hate inflated to a kind of legendary wind.
Furious, the land, and wrecked, like a obligated
Desire. The worst in us having taken over
And splintered the rest utterly down.
A prolonged era
Passed. When at last we knew how little
Would survive us—how little we had mended
Or built that was not now lost—something
Large and old awoke. And then our singing
Brought on a different style of cloud cover.
Then animals long believed gone are the
Days to rest in the harbor
We took new stock of one another.
We wept to be reminded of such lost decade.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem