O I'm looking for something,
past all remembrance
Cutting through a field
like a plough, I hear
a church bell?
an old crow like a harpsichord…
furrow… after… furrow…
until—I hit. An old solidified, bough!
that is no longer!
no longer! the yolk of an acorn.
No longer! a green sapling, spire!
oh, honey…
oh, honey…
oh, honey…
how do we choose a bow?
a sapling yew! here… here… here…
there is only some old bog-oak …remains,
a black ore kindling…
where some scarlet red dragons
long since died
scorch the ground
praying to be unearthed
and put to flames…
in a clearing…
for pastures—new!
Oh honey…
Oh I'm looking for…
Oh, I'm looking for…
Oh, I'm looking for something,
almost mystical in you!
Oh, I'm looking for…
a knight to rescue …my heart …again.
To the sound of armour!
to the sound of a church bell
that same old same
with… you!
O I'm looking for something,
past all remembrance
with… you!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem