A tangle of seaweed steamed in the sun,
My children touched the wood with fingers.
I saw a wooden plank, with a look of awe,
Ready to ride the waves of glory once more.
This was my boat of ores and minerals, of gold
And silver and crystals violet to the eyes of chains.
There were strange carvings on the plank this time,
I needed strange weapons to conceal my aggression.
For many the helpful sways are the swings of forever
Wars and battles, waves and rivulets, seas and oceans.
I thought a dead day was a cold swallowing of food
Entwined with happy gold, the happiest metal on sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well crafted fine free verse, Naveed...10+++