some will be swallowed
by their mothers.
some will outlive their daughters.
far across the waves,
the cry of the gulls,
the red sun,
as if in a dream,
rises to fill an empty sky.
nightmares.
i am being haunted.
ho hum, here come
the crushing ghosts.
the spirit knows
what the body refuses
to know.
the ghosts come in,
heaving their milk-white skin,
i said, heaving their milk-white skin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I don't 'get' all of it, but each line sounds profound to me. And I get a feeling this piece is written with quite a bit of awareness. The lines seem artful, and I'm not sure why, but I also like the repetition of the last line.