Translation in Progress
[This is a translation in progress. I'm having trouble finding right expressions for some of the words and getting the right feeling down. Thus, the alternative translations in brackets.]
POETRY IS WENDING THE WAY
Poetry is wending the way, [journeying, travelling]
counting the unending [endless] steps,
sitting down at the root of a tree,
lighting a cigarette,
watching the scenery, [landscape]
raising a wine bottle to
your lips, falling asleep,
sleeping unconsciously, [an unconscious sleep]
waking up, shivering
from cold, emptying your bladder,
pissing on flowers,
washing your face.
And poetry is taking [catching] a breath
before setting off, [taking off]
tying the strings of your bag,
packing up stories:
an empty moment wind
makes its nest into.
Posted on 29/01/2010, in Poems, Poetry and tagged Poems, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.
Poetry is wending the way,
counting the unending steps,
sitting down at the root
of a tree, lighting a cigarette;
watching the landscape
raising a bottle of wine
to your lips, falling asleep,
an unconscious sleep;
waking up, shivering,
emptying your bladder,
pissing on flowers,
washing your face.
And poetry is catching a breath
before setting off,
tying the strings of your bag,
packing up stories:
an empty moment the wind
makes its nest into.
xx
You’ve been awarded the SUNSHINE AWARD for your beautiful poetry. Check out on my blog post for details.
http://ginamtheresa.wordpress.com/2010/02/22/sunshine-award/
Gina
xx