Gust-bitten by wild winds
Tearing at their moorings
Their hulls gray with time
Dead boats
On the beach
Dead boats groan and dream
Broken by the worries of love
Deafened by the sterile call
Of shredded horizons
Stroked by the hands of trade winds
By waves undulating a shameless offer
They howl the painful sob of dead desire
In today’s winter the skin is burning so
That still to dream of weighing anchor
To the far away harbor
Still to long for satin Jamaica’s
Palpitating palms
Is madness raving in March
Dead boats on the beach
Their molten gold tears burn the sands
At the estuary by the cliffs
They used to round so smoothly
As they sailed away
Oh so very long ago
Saturday, July 26,2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem