The Subject Of Death Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka
The Subject Of Death
or standing at night with a lit candle
under my chin in front of a mirror
prevents my humor
from spilling.
The stanza is romantic.
Makes me queasy.
And it's unfair to play
with silver dimes
when the dead
can see no more
nor have the will
to lift their lids.
Had they the capability
to wink & smoke a lid
I'm certain muteness
would reflect their voice
and their hallucinations
would be Dostoyevsky's.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 5:25:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
