It Goes To The Grave With The Bearer Of The Secret, While Motions Freeze In The Depths Of His Body Poem by Kinga Fabo
It Goes To The Grave With The Bearer Of The Secret, While Motions Freeze In The Depths Of His Body
As if oozing from the the edges of
fissures.
Couldn't get beyond the stains.
Sitting in a soft garden, in a semi-circle.
In the tiny crack between truth
and falsity.
(Translated by Michael Castro and Gábor G. Gyukics)
Interesting poem; usually we don't think of gardens and semi circles as places with tiny cracks……these are whole settings. But the twist on perspective and proportion makes for a more intriguing poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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