As Swedish lightning enters
Renders day from deepest night
And (soulful) wishers beg
Mortgaging their tearful fortunes
For an ounce of pure spiritual bullion
With happy veins glistening
Truth, honor, sufficient respect
Among the smelted ore
Ready for mold and use
Pass me down
The spirit roars
Throw me selflessly into the frenzy
That needs the slightest taste
Where spirit climbs
Wind lifting it above the caroling
Desperate chorus
They sing to place the blame
Affix the blame
Plainly on shoulders
Foreign yet known
Sturdy, meaty
Built by strength
Gained, endured
Through the repetition
Yet believe, they will
Chant its gross tales of hope
Until the sun can rise
On its own
Two feet.
(8/14/04, Caruso's lounge, Westin St. Francis Hotel, San Francisco, CA)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem