Valletta, the Bastions.
The wind sates
itself running round
embracing this house
coiling as a snake
round this tree and
that
thus
that it goes
to Hastings Gardens
place favorite
coils round
an elm, and then an oak
yet full
with nightingales from
the next night.
The
waters
sing
they
feel
the
coiling
wind
skim
them
lover-like
with
windy
kisses
All
all in a secret rhapsody
the winds thrives
the wind makes.
Restless
with throbbing
heart
and pale as guilt
silent as silence
the wind round and
round
coils itself
the day comes
the day grows
into its dress of drear
usual dress of drear:
cars lighting to carry
secretaries and men
for work
students to the schools
o! the winds yearns
pale in the face
of sounds newborn
in the new day
the rhapsody it carried
forward
from the night
the
buses
clonk
look
there's
a
bus
waiting
someone
something
and
with
it
jams
the
rest
of
the
traffic
Come! come! little by
little
the silent rhapsody
of the dusk originated
wind
little by little
goes the rhapsody
little by little.
by noon its stops
to an inaudible
minimum.
but sunset
will come again
but dusk will come
again
the wind will rise again
the wind will originate
again
traffic will subside
and house lights will light
up
first
then as the wind rhapsody
grows
one by one
lights off:
and the dark comes.
The rhapsody continues.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem