Sometimes you wake,
And you find me there;
I am restless love...
The harshness of my world; binds,
And if I am seemingly sleeping,
In my wake,
Fighting nocturnal roots,
That never harvest a feather for a wing,
Or bear pulp to quench,
The parched hands of time...
Remember I am strangling a memory,
As I lay beneath the vulchers,
Praying a dark soldier,
Does not fight for my hand in death...
And I tell them all;
That I wish to live for the light,
That mourns close to me,
My restless love,
My restless love...
Whose feet bleed;
From searching in thorned distances,
To bring me light...
To bring me light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow... truly superb... I like all of it.... a nice blend of concretes and abstractions, strong imagery and emotional depth and power... authentic, quality poetry... jim