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Long standing
A tribe of the quiet
Carrying in the tide
I see waves I've never seen before
And sounds I've never heard.
Long standing
A nursery of tall, primitive sculptures
Tying the links between their bows
And the primordial waters which keep them afloat.
As they repetitively curtsy in the whirlpool of warm July waters,
I repetitively watch,
A gazer stealing a glance at what the image of God may be like.
I've seen a painting like this,
Capturing what paint can capture,
But forgetting about the distinct elegance in which these ships are riding.
Planting ten toes amongst the billions of grains of sand,
I imagine the journey to be somewhat spectacular
I would be the girl,
A pirate of the unknown fogs that wash out the morning sunrises,
A sailor of imperative winds that shift my ships from here to there.
I would be the girl,
Watching the shore like a distant thread of a smile,
Waiting for the cold-blooded vertebrates to direct me
In whatever way the sea has directed them.
Envious of the closeness between salt and water,
I'm sure I could disappear into the crevice between the sky and sea.
Long standing
I see plenty of ships
Like wise old battle men
I watch them climb the ridges on the tearful eyes of mother earth.
She watches them fade across her deep dark blues
As I stand and covet her view.
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Traduction en français
