I am asleep having a childhood kind of dream
of me lying in the hollow of a boat
drifting on a river, meandering down to the sea
and about me the sturdy curved planks
are solid etched against the night sky
where millions of stars gaze down
and a big full moon hangs yellow and high
and the boat rocks gently almost as a cradle
with undercurrents pushing it into a estuary
and I smell tar and salt and suddenly death
while the prow rises before gliding onto a shore.
The smell of death and daylight greets me
is much more intense, with some seagulls
screaming and jostling against each other
sounding almost like a group of vultures
and the boat is on a white shore
with some palm trees,
the water of the river is clear see-through blue
and there's shingle under my feet
like one would expect at a sea beach
and stranger still just beyond the shore
crossing two dunes
a dusty plain of red-brown sand
stretches out to the horizon
but just at the bottom of the dune
I stumble over a huge graveyard,
maybe a battlefield
and the seagulls fly up in a protesting flock
with the bones of ancient knights lying
in full shining decorated metal armour,
with drawn swords,
war axes, war hammers, metal crossbows
and finely decorated shields
and farther beyond two gleaming golden chariots
are parked at opposing sides
with crowned skeletons only just sticking out of them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem