even the silence of the night talks,
small children talk in their dreams;
old people talk staring out windows...
trees talk shedding leaves,
empty buildings talk to ghosts;
dead bones talk to the wind...
the wind talks those who mourn.
the hungry talk to their oppressors,
the prisoner talks to the walls.
the desperate talk to the noose,
lovers talk with simple touch.
soldiers talk to their fears,
the unborn talk to our decisions.
the moon talks to the night,
and the night talks to the dawn.
the soul of man talks,
and calls it god.
the conscience talks to the heart.
death talks to the living....
who listens?
who really hears?
Wonderful ideas, Sir! the soul talks to God. Conscience talks to the heart. Some talk with pain, some with cheers, some with fear... Wonderful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting verse, oddly quiet on this electronic page, enjoyable depth and freedom in your words, cheers