I forged a sea
With these calloused hands
And a tainted heart
Come hither
To the equinox that is nigh
An internal balance to
An explosive struggle;
A mutual arson
In here, I sputter fire
Within the tales of men and women.
How does one identify
A soul and its identity?
The affinity of mine soul only
Carries the inception
Of a slow-dancing attrition
You must have been dazed
As the eulogies are told
Over slow hearses that
Crash and burn into perdition.
Look, love
I beseech you like the heavens
That suffice our assuages
Souse me in your blood,
Tremble with my bones
And there you will come to know
That I am far from how you
Envisage me:
I am a tatterdemalion flowerhead,
A ceded wave of marred pace -
And it is as if I have no place in your
Garish realm;
But here I am
Thriving behind the cold ushers
Of your waterfront
Your eyes like sentries cradle
Me through the onslaught of desertion.
Look love, the mischief of fate
Dies slowly - it fidgets and fades;
And so tomorrow when you wake
To the sound of my cacophonous clash
I will give them a fragment of our sea,
And I will give you, all of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem