A clear pool of water beckons to me,
neath a gigantic Joshua tree.
But as I get closer it's fading away,
swallowed by sand, as the night swallows day.
Heat waves rise from the land up ahead,
but I must keep walking, though my legs feel like lead.
Then off to the right, I see it again,
the sun sears my eyes, all i'm feeling is pain.
I walk towards the pool, refreshingly clear,
and in my mind I swear that I hear.
The sound of water bubbling on stones,
yet all I can see now, are animal bones.
With my hands on my hips, I look up at the sky,
and stare at the clouds, forming up high.
They're packing together, turning around,
heading this way, with ominous sounds.
I feel the cool breeze, upon my face,
off in the distance, is a beautiful haze.
Water from Heaven, a most beautiful thing,
I'll sit down and wait, by this dried up spring.
5/18/10 29 palms ca.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful desert imagery accurately depicting a personalized experience of a mirage, and the laws defining our subject interaction with this environment when on foot. The desert is a good place to be honest with internal and seasonal reality. Nicely written.