with reluctance and great sorrow
I returned from your fabled lands
where I myself led the expedition
into a wilderness
full of strange civilizations,
and beautiful sights,
to captivate the heart
it would fascinate me to tell you of it
this place where giants live
where there are beings with no heads
a land where the birds,
are big enough to carry off your soul
and where the snakes can swallow you whole.
it is wondrous this place
seemingly made of solid gold
descend into my tale
and let me tell you about the land of love gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you've just posted 4 very passionate poems- I can only say I felt each one intensely. 'A couple express the spasm of suffocation that seems to almost shut out one's very existence, except as a fire of pain, for a time when someone dear severs connection. The cloth of hurt' is a very strong image that especially stays with me, and your overriding 'expedition' metaphor in this one does as well, for as I understand, we really are each a world. If these are autobiographical, and it's hard to imagine such passion otherwise, please know I can only 'get' them from having had such experiences, and that I and I'm sure many who read them, wish you healing with time and the waxing of the moon(s) , in these cyclings and recyclings of our nevertheless ever-new experience.