Death In Dance Poem by Xijuan Bellotti
Death In Dance
It's a gentle gentle breeze
Which bothered the vineyard.
It's a monk in the temple
Who asked me about death.
It's children who crept into the garden,
They're sneaking on heels behind me.
I could have turned around.
To look and not to notice.
To look into my heart's desire,
To keep quiet to the top of my bent.
Not to miss
My stolen childhood anymore.
It's a gentle gentle breeze
Which repeated beats from Bach cantata,
I caught up with myself thinking
That I have nothing to reply... to you
Well conceived and nicely crafted with insight. A beautiful creation. Thanks for sharing Angel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 11:52:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Vaguely upsetting expression about a poet more swept away by Bach's cantata than somebody near by. Does the poet feel guilty for not giving complete attention to the here-now/with somebody.? ? ? ? ? ? ?