Eyes no more close to sleep
I hear the groaning
Pagan voice,
Neither it speaks of it pains-
Nor it calls out my name,
It calls for someone lost in tide…
It calls for friends lost in night…
Pagan drums beat in rhythm
Cauldrons heating the day’s feast…
Macbeths and shylocks plotting ahead…
A pagan cry I still hear on…
A wounded lion gnawing at its wound…
A demon or a cursed Lucifer…
A man with a tired soul and a sore heart…
The pagan voice yells again
But no voice from this world answers back..
The imagination goes beyond the earth to hear the voice from nowhere. Well composed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice imagination and imagery...and the voice remains undiscovered...still echoing in the emptiness of the ethereal world!