At dawn the mind awakening
Is unsure of When and Where,
It is a border zone of dream-time
And what may be reality, a trance.
When life is ship-wreck, one may sense
A drowning depth, a marine grotto,
A legend foreknown but undiscovered.
The will of waters drags you down,
Where random sounds of splitting timber
And sinking shards of metal
Become an alien babble. Such particles
Of noise assail the ears. Make them whole
As phonemes; interpret the syllables
As words, phrase, idiom, adage, dicta
Of a tongue you never knew you knew:
This meld of consonant and vowel, euphony,
Can make a ‘mantra' or a metric chant
Beyond planetary time; it is an interior pulse
Of counted beats until they morph
Into a hardened chain of quotes
And bragging echoes of current wisdom
To petrify the ears. Life is real, earnest too,
But are we sure that it is not a trance?
- - - - -
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem