Sutton Hoo
Somewhere,
hidden treasures
wait to be found.
Beneath a mound
of earth, or in
some farmer's field.
Another Sutton Hoo:
perhaps even more.
When King John's Crown
sunk in Fenland swamp;
when ransomed fortune,
hidden from view: lost,
awaits a finder, keeper,
Judge of Treasure Trove.
Has some metal detector
already found, and stored
underneath his bed,
an untold fortune?
Unlike Sutton Hoo,
where archeological
considerations came
before personal gain.
When secrets
of Saxon Kings,
North and South Men,
fused on fields,
forged in gold
and precious stones,
only to be revealed
long after Christ,
or some heathen god
was welcomed
to the soil.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem