Potted Flowers with Books IV Eric Barjot No, I'm Not Afraid No, I'm not afraid: after a year Of breathing these prison nights I will survive into the sadness To name which is escape. The cockerel will weep freedom for me And here - knee-deep in mire - My gardens shed their water And the northern air blows in draughts. And how am I to carry to an alien planet What are almost tears, as though towards home... It isn't true, I am afraid, my darling! But make it look as though you haven't noticed. Irina Ratushinskaya (4th March 1954 - ) |
Thursday 13 August 2015
The Thursday Poem
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment