1.
Each of us like you
has died once,
has passed through drift of wood-leaves,
cracked and bent
and tortured and unbent
in the winter-frost,
the burnt into gold points,
lighted afresh,
crisp amber, scales of gold-leaf,
gold turned and re-welded
in the sun;
each of us like you
has died once,
each of us has crossed an old wood-path
and found the winter-leaves
so golden in the sun-fire
that even the live wood-flowers
were dark.
2.
Not the gold on the temple-front
where you stand
is as gold as this,
not the gold that fastens your sandals,
nor thee gold reft
through your chiselled locks,
is as gold as this last year's leaf,
not all the gold hammered and wrought
and beaten
on your lover's face.
brow and bare breast
is as golden as this:
each of us like you
has died once,
each of us like you
stands apart, like you
fit to be worshipped.
Lift, shift! Drift of wood-leaves. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
A great imagery rich poem so lucidly written, thanks poet.
Beautifully crafted. Thanks and congrtulations to his soul for being selected as the poem of the day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
She is a poet for the ages. She has never made me feel that I have wasted my time. She instead gives me food for thought and a model to emulate