If you are an ocean apart
as you say you are, not an island,
not an isthmus, but deep and blue,
then I must be a ship skimming
your surface, blue too.
Beneath the aquamarine ripples,
down where sunlight never penetrates,
down where galleons and pirate ships
navigate under a different sky,
where muses and monsters
congregate and where starfish
twinkle in black milkyways:
that, you say,
is where I must travel
to unravel
your love, your music,
your madness.
But your depth is not open seas,
but tiered zones, impenetrable waters,
so here I float in murky dolrums.
Oh that I had a seine, a wide fishnet,
wherein I might capture
your thoughts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem