a piece of sky slanted like a fish
in the ovary of a poem yet to breath
I stitch the boat with all the dying words you left for me
left for me near the past
I saw how the fish washes the water of the words
and the early born blue
before the bird we crafted for each other
half out of water
the rose-red words are sucking the womb
and we are next to our present
the fish is turning to the rainbow of the lemon-oil
looking nothing but nailed
the boat caught at the bed…..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poem indeed. Reading again. Thanks for sharing.
thank you dear poet