I’m learning to take out verses of my ashes,
To die without anger nor hope.
And now, lonely, sad, without love,
I’m going from the harbour to the fog,
My boat is not my boat,
My flag carries your coldness,
The back you have turned on me,
And every day I have to make up a name
To call myself, to push me through
This city which hurts my pride,
showing me your face
at every bend I take
To remind me of my storm;
I’m the unknown one who sometimes talks to you,
And always sails the darkness of your pain.
His is truly a dark and lovely poem at the same time. I really, really love it...darkness does sound interesting.
ResponderEliminarIt's a great poem, loaded with feelings and strenght.
I like a lot the last two verses... Simply great
Has a lot of images. I can see in your writing that english is not your first language but it is definitely good poem.
Es una sorpresa, Beatriz, encontrarme con un comentario a este poema aún viniendo de ti. Sólo puedo decirte que forma parte de un esfuerzo agónico para asimilar la frustración que me produjo el fracaso en el aprendizaje del inglés. La versión en español es de las pocas de las que estoy satisfecho y te la enviaré por correo.
ResponderEliminarPor lo demás, darte las gracias, Beatriz.