Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Trees of The City Park

The cold dawns of winter
Wrapped themselves
On the trees of the city park

The morning walkers
Created spiral circles
Peacock feathers
With their wide open eyes
Shone in lustrous circles

In the inkpot of poetry
Rose a c minor from scale of octave;
In the wild forest
Peacocks, stags and reeds;
Go ahead,
Before the untamed, wild elephants
Come to cross the road,
Go forward.

Royal courts remain in wait for you,
Life and drowsiness are creeping
Through the way faring towns.
Bullocks are tormenting water and mud
In paddy fields.
Sunflower blossoms,
Thick breasts of plateaus
Secrete sorrows;
Drown not in them, Go forward.

Winter is a mere beginning,
Not an end.
Beginning of a revolution,
An epoch, a history,
And an end.

The secretions of the medicinal plants
Destroyed in the war marches
Come to you along the mountain slopes
Oh, ocean, to you.

Seasons creep again,
In the end winter raise its hoods
On the Christmas trees;
Again trees of the city park.



  1. The Shepherd of flames
    The shepherd of flames
    Eats with his tongue extended
    He has no hands
    In the end
    He has only the will to destroy
    In the oven
    In the chamber of suicide
    On the battle fields
    And in wild fires
    Black tongues remain
    That can't be seen.
    He has limitless wealth
    But it's of no use to him
    He will combust
    And after
    Fly in ashes
    In breezes.
    His spouse
    Will bring sticks to the fire
    They will crack and burn
    She will romanticize the fire
    Pouring olive oil
    And after
    She will wear
    A rope of hemp grass
    Or of crushed palm leaves
    Around her neck.

  2. it brings in my heart like a flame. in my thoughts, flying clouds... c.p. the sharp shooter of poem...


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