Not Of Many Languages Poem by Dennis Go
Not Of Many Languages
I speak not of many languages
But of these:
The voice of the barge
Headed somewhere
To the unknown regions
Of the sea, fading
Till no sound
Mimics the tides;
The whispers of the pen
As it rushes through
The roughness and coarseness
Of the paper provided
By scattered leftover sheets
And the music deemed
As silence.
To you who listened,
Peel yourselves off
After learning my dialect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 8:51:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
