Every night I dream
that a mountain increased in my palm
that I raised on my shoulders,
and gone toward the Sargasso quiet Sea
then entered into line with other
nameless slave ships
to coast with high mountains
for a particular judgement
Huge waves went over us
that I could nor navigate,
(translated from romanian)
nor to come back
and water was changed abruptly in sand;
Our bodies were also from sand
heavy was burden, lower the power
On shore with deserted camps
that people abandoned in hurry
Like a guillotine behind clouds
of a part of the sky, up
When I woke of thrills
of the sand that I enclasp
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this one is really good. By the way, thanks for rating and commenting my poems.