Quiet and forbidding in the ruling sands
regarding the temple: the crisis stands
'I jumped and you weren't there for me'
He calls himself 'the Pungeont Man'
Upon reaching the end of the desert
the wrong way came back and returned to beginning
On time for sun-dried fish, red berries and beets
There's no prisoners with the scorpion treats
That's how it feels now- cold, dark, bright, might
be on top of summer leaves on a forward sight
Regarding the temple, I thought you'd ask
The crisis stands in the quiet forbidding sands
But this is his home, a place he can lay
The Nomad in his temple made out of clay
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Regarding the temple, I thought you'd ask The crisis stands in the quiet forbidding sands But this is his home, a place he can lay The Nomad in his temple made out of clay A poet's note would help us to understand your fine poem better. thank yu very much. tony