The lights bedim above the asphalt roads,
while midnight shines its blackish hue of smalt;
I knew the Northern ranges' nightly codes,
the dissonance of hurting stars and vault.
Above the melted ice the sky's grimace
has sent the birds to emigrate for life;
some scattered neon lights and epigraphs,
advert with street signs like a cutting knife.
The signs dispersed nictate, at random thrown,
while nimbus deigned on the station's ell,
escaping light, the landscape spreads windblown,
around the roaring Greyhound buses quell.
The Abyssos has opened to engulf
my stare and thoughts; thus aggregates above;
the windy howl resounds alike a wolf
that greets this season with his wrong octave.
Her form reflects above, where light bedims,
immense her depth cuts back with freezing wit,
bequeathing darkness on the decks and brims,
becomes the destination of our grit.
I saw her in that depth, a symbol grave;
have never known who listened, laughed or wept;
but knew the swirl of flakes on my enclave,
the pristine quilt that covered those who slept.
Tall trees became the landscape's odd gendarmes,
and thin, persistent drops my features trace,
their cold and faithful call my void soul charms
with its relentless kiss upon my face.
whoever reads this poem must know that the journey of the mind is superior because precisely your writing exalts and unleashes all senses.. so your poetry throws you together with the reader! ! i vote 10++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
whoever reads this poem must know that the journey of the mind is superior because precisely your writing exalts and unleashes all senses.. so your poetry throws you together with the reader, i vote 10+