Underneath the
Travelers palms,
The pilgrims
Stopped
And ate
Box lunches before
Reciting their
Salty psalms
And the chorus lines
Of bruised eyed
Catholic girls
Powdered
Their lips;
And well, oh well,
You get the gist….
Of the rest of this….
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A different style for you - short lines, more rhythmic, less prose poetry. I particularly like this poem - succinct and meaningful, like a dropp of water held in the palm of a hand.