I moved from room to room - -
Clutching my thin pillow
A bed-sheet, mosquito racquet
And a flame of fear
As bright as the moon - -
Hoping a change of ceiling and floor
Head and feet pointing
In different directions
Would quieten the restless sea
Growing rougher by the hour
And threatening either shore and more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem