Wise words
Of Sophocles
Still simmer on my tongue
As though my eyes had spoke them aloud.
And many nights
I pine for the meager
Desires
Of old age.
But,
Undercurrent nights
I am absorbed
In white washed
Tears
Of infection
From the salty ocean,
Which leaves its tastes behind
To linger also
On my eyes and tongue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem