With dream-light on the Secret River,
The grotto looms familiar,
As listened music in a private mood-scape.
Thrilled by wordy certitudes,
I chance on nouns I know but cannot name,
Nouns unborn as bodied vocables,
Whose trembling visages
Give goose-flesh to the altered eye,
As in a subliminal aquarium.
The will of waters drags me down
Deep into the grotto where,
Dream-light dimming, stealthy sounds
Harden into bragging echoes;
And I, a coward in their midst,
Hold their hands for fear and fear
The petrifaction of my ears.
The Secret River ended there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
soubds like a near drowning or a complex fear of being pulled under by an unseen river monster