My Fair Land
I am not apt to embrace your wounds and truths my fair land we have dwelt too long afar
Onto you I bestow my love yet those eyes will not see at morn your heavy breath reaches my ears lusting evermore
I hear your laughter in twilight born howling like a temptress in rapture
your wounds they wound me so your truths they flourish with flaws
drenched in blood are my hands a drum void of rhythm bringing down these four walls
whither will I seek solace now that the aloe has withered away upon the hills the yellow florets too have waned
These feet shall no longer wander these eyes shall no longer see these ears shall no longer heed
rooted in nothingness stasis; wounds I shall no longer withstand
rusted are the yellow florets lost forevermore is that aloe that had made me swell with pride
Never could I have soothed your wounds Never could I have embraced your truths: There is beauty in decay!
John P. Portelli,2021
Translated from the Maltese by Hermanda Gauci
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem