They are now snuggled past- reposed
At each notch of the dust- dispossessed
Their ashes bristle fast with breath of darkness.
That once thrust upon the moment- embedded.
The dusts of black infinite
Refrained from rhythm reveling
Those settle slowly over their coffins- refluxing
And blood made patterns to sky blue - anguished.
When I wink at, in ember thought
Across the little wing of fallen tears
Someone slashes me to go slow
To the flared fire – amuck- swooping.-
When bare smokes sizzle over sylvan meadow
The misty breeze beckons with the twist and turns
Into the reek of voices- interior
Their extended breath raved up like sportive art
That slithers with words of silver lining
into the notch of gesture- archieve.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent poem with a careful selection of words.