Translating the rain

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I wish she knew from the very start
Which mountain the sun came from
For your eyes can be deceiving in rain
Fountains are rain corralled and I'm tempted
Into sleeping on your neck. A servitude of roses.
In which green bay and the rolling sea spy on me
That's deep, but it aint at all clear. Like seawater,
Lagoons on tropical Islands are lost on me.
Kind of like a fantasy.

I wish you and I knew from the very start
That in your heart of hearts
You do not have a way to deal with the sea,
Water is a better sort of wound 
Because water wishes from the very beginning
That human hands will remain unpolluted by blood
That is the key to the music box hidden in the secret
Garden, where the door is always closed, where puddles
Stay with the stories and water dilutes the tears of lovers.
Simple but astonishingly wet before you know it
You are. Water has the urge to repeat
When I reach the end of your hand
You reach the bridge, the bridge
On the verge of doubt;
Eject me from the river
Soak me in the sun
I break it to you:
Dreams do come true.
Passing clouds and waves and tides
I went and went and went
I took the shade of this old water tree,
Even though she was tired and broken,
I'd love to see you
Kiss the sun with your wet lips
Drink the water
Seè my heart melt.

◄ Season of mists

In the silence of the Kurds ►

Comments

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John Marks

Tue 15th Oct 2019 18:35

Thank you kindly Cathy and Lisa and Kate.

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Kate G

Tue 15th Oct 2019 10:17

Like the waves themselves, your words ebb and flow John. Lovely.

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Vautaw

Tue 15th Oct 2019 01:40

Breathtaking poetry of the ages John. I wish the world could see your art. I feel privileged to be among those that do. It’s like a Beethoven symphony. Your words waltz with my soul, and for a moment the cares of the world melt away. You have a true gift. Thank you for sharing it with us❣️🙏

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