Long
have I not been
to Hastings Gardens
there be seen
in the night
the fauns and nymphs
trembling firs and
nervous oaks
branches rustling
trembling owls
jostled here
jostled there
and
the amorous nightingales
sing, sing, sing,
not noticing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the way the nightingales - symbols of love in Sufi poetry - are oblivious to anything else. Right on, birds! I remember HASTINGS GARDENS from poems of yours I read last year. In fact, I looked for photographs of it on a Google Search on Malta - and I saw many such gardens but not HASTINGS. You are visiting in your imagination what you haven't visited recently in actuality. Your poem is an invitation to visit once again.