There are times of day
when over the petrol pump
a certain bare wall is lit up
and stands against the blue
like a moon.
There comes a moment when
you do really live here
and look these houses in the face, and learn
to stand - to be - in the world,
to speak to a blank wall.
You learn the language,
you listen to people passing.
You begin to see this place,
to feel
in the clarity of their words
the light of this wall.
You learn the language, you listen to people passing. You begin to see this place, to feel in the clarity of their words the light of this wall fascinating how the words are woven up and the outcome is that strong feeling of strange affinity. In every word the poet shares with souls a bond so consuming. Please write on dear poet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Adapting to the culture of your new home? Good poem.