Translating Rumi
not through the tongue and its wind-spray
or the booming chest
but through broken wings
whispers of ruined things
crushed
into a wordless tongue
here is a sparrow corpse
this is his poetry
catacombs of grubs
a wing bent stiffly up
the other
pounded into utterance
spirit riddled by flesh
blown through
a blare of broken lungs
not salted
on the suds of speech
but in the ruined breath
of a shattered prayer
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment