Rhythmic tapping of shoes
Ascending a hillside pathway
Following a sheep ragged track
But seeming like impenetrable steps
To a sacred heart.
Unexpected wind wriggles free
Reaching, probing a weakness.
A tree sways, creaking musically,
A forgotten oboe tune.
A hint of snow
Comes from the mountains
A fine white dust
Slipping between
The bare twig bark
Hungry naked arms,
Stretching out towards the sky
Quiver in expectation.
An almost imperceptible drone
Follows the gurgle
Of a turquoise stream.
But slowly lazily,
The drone becomes audible
And the overture begins..
Water music bursts forth,
Shaking air
In a tumultuous explosion.
A cataract shaped like women’s thighs.
A torrent divided gushing down
Twenty feet,
Emerging into foam.
Spattering on rocks below
In the damp, restless air of the fall.
I shall have to concede, that perfection is being beckoned by this poem. Incredible flow and substance control. You definitely nailed a command of imagery here, beyond what I've seen on the other poems. Impressive. Good thing you experienced that scenery, it has comforted me just now. Thank you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very nice; the first half of the second stanza speaks to my own experience in particular. Thank you.