dark and silent grave
that keeps in trust the dust
gathered on the sharecropper’s farm
as the last days of August disappeared
and holds in the pain in the story of our days
when the tired sun sinks behind the grove
immaculate grave
console the wanderer with no cough drops
berth the ship of the weary soul
heal the breath that never smiled on the dirt road
take care of this soul soaked in sweat
and lost in the circuit between the womb and the tomb
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem