As if the earthbecame mad
there grow up
the gigantic grassy reeds
and nodding the dishevelled head
they sip up the storms.
As I see these taller clusters
I can't help remembering my father:
once he lay here
as a broken pitcher full of blood,
alongside there lay a flag
and a list of slogans.
Now these horrid grassy reeds
stand as a roaring house.
I can't help remembering this spot
where he lived days and nights
taking position
and having his finger on the trigger
- - - -.
As I see these taller clusters I can't help remembering my father: once he lay here as a broken pitcher full of blood, alongside there lay a flag and a list of slogans. Thinking of the past, the dear father and his convictions for which he lived. thank you dear poet. tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Finger on the trigger, meaningful