1.
I grow time, beans, the colour gray
And stitch the shadows of a dying day
They make a woman, rather a girl
Lost in the ocean like a grain of pearl
The swans of Coole fly over me
Will they rest for a while by me!
Maybe it's my turn now.
Deep in the frost where my eyes shall never go
The leopard will print his paw
And with a sudden leap break free
All the chimes of poetry
Maybe it's my turn now.
The rough beast was never born
Though we devised a cage for his morn
Maybe it's my turn now.
I have a tale to tell I shall also ring the bell
When you start believing
When you start hearing
Maybe it's my turn now.
2.
These days I don't think of you
But after the soot covers me
I begin to wonder where those
Evenings have gone, those wanderings
In the spacious lawns of enchantment
That smacked of no design, though
We were bent on making a sense
The early birds get their worms
I lie in the tireless ticking of my old watch
Counting the bits of frozen blood,
Listening to the worms
That are in all of us
Then I begin to crawl towards the womb
That threw me off a long way back
And look for the dark, the black hole
To suck me up.
3.
I was nice to him
He was nice to me
Only
Our doors, our windows
Kept closed
Lest we smell each other.
Translated into English by Roger Woodhouse
The yearnings of love and sanctuary...sometimes love and life hurt so much but there is always hope in the middle of this tug of war..good poem congratulations on winning the Nobel Peace Prize in literature..
Complex, original, and deserves being read again and again
A dying day! ! With the muse of life. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I shall also ring the bell When you start believing When you start hearing. A complex and intriguing write displaying different manifestations of color grey. Thanks for sharing it here.