My dreams now are tepid, composed as they are
Of slackened sinews and uncomplicated time,
New rift valleys to dam forgotten faults-
Or the insidious extension, of skeletal fingers.
They call out in my dreams for more days,
Their stories ended before the obvious conclusion;
The lucky ones all died in their sleep-
But others died awake, and never knew it.
nice. it has a strange pessimism that makes u wonder, is that what happened to me? (i wonder if i died awake asometimes, i hope not.) beautifully brutal in that sense. good addition
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the last line is a real kicker... thought inspiring!