When the morning was waking over the war
He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died,
The locks yawned loose and a blast blew them wide,
He dropped where he loved on the burst pavement stone
And the funeral grains of the slaughtered floor.
Tell his street on its back he stopped a sun
And the craters of his eyes grew springshots and fire
When all the keys shot from the locks, and rang.
Dig no more for the chains of his grey-haired heart.
The heavenly ambulance drawn by a wound
Assembling waits for the spade's ring on the cage.
O keep his bones away from the common cart,
The morning is flying on the wings of his age
And a hundred storks perch on the sun's right hand.
He drowns his reader in a rampaging flood of words but words so skillfully strung together to create a building emotion and through the emotion understanding of the reason the poet wrote this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Compliments of the day to you. I am Miss nenita fred I am single,23yrs.However How are you? hope you are fine and in perfect condition of health.I went through your profile and i read it and took intersest in it, if you don't mind i will like to know you much better, although i came online to look for a true and loving man that is ready for a true, honest and loving relationship and will be able to take good care of me if you are the kind of man am talking about then send me a mail now on my private email (nenita_4life77@yahoo.co.uk) included, so that i will tell you all about myself and a picture of myself.looking forward to hear from you, thanks and God bless miss nenita