Aniara Poem by Harry Martinson
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Aniara
Rating: ★3.5
We listen daily to the sonic coins
provided every one of us and played
through the Finger-singer worn on the left hand.
We trade coins of diverse denominations:
and all of them play all that they contain
and though a dyma 1 scarcely weighs one grain
it plays out like a cricket on each hand
blanching here in this distraction-land.
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Poems By Harry Martinson
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5/7/2024 6:15:28 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A nice poem with deep meaning. There is a price for everything in life. Thanks for sharing with me. Please read my poem 'Isthmus Of Pain And Joy'