In this land that giants chiselled
old gods rule
but they are crumbling.
Still they spew fast-flowing fire.
Still they mould the plain into floating sand.
Still the river carves a different bed every night.
The white hair turns filthy and recedes.
White-blue frozen tears fill a lake
the beauty of a dying goddess
a cruel mirror
- and we stare as if we are mist
or the sulphur fumes from the steaming soil.
In the air, colourful light dances against the wind.
In the water, the seals flash, dark-grey shadows.
High above us, the puffins screech their elegy.
CZYTASZ
The Sun Shone at Dawn
PoezjaThe wind blows harder under many shades of grey. The sun shone at dawn. *** A collection of haikus, tankas, poems about nature, climate change, platonic love, and any other poems I feel like writing or translating to English.
