The Sea

These days are so busy that I can't do any new post on my blog.
My office documents [which love to be :)] spending nights with me.
My OTs. My language clacess. My home works.
Huuuu.
Anyway. Simply, briefly, and frankly this is my English teacher's
translation of one of my poems, which is remarked by my teacher
who often remarks saying: "This poem is Vowel's Masterpiece."
Masterpiece?
Ah ha. I don't think so.
So long as I've a chance to live, I'll always be able to compose poems
after poems. Anyway let this be my Masterpiece today.

"The Sea"

(1)

The oldest lovely property

Is said: "Weak Point."

The leaves

Didn't close the doors

For these hot airs.

(2)

Among the mirage with white tusks

Full of my eyes

While I'm thirsty

I raised up my head and drank

Though I'm not golden deer.

(3)

But now

My sunflowers can’t let themselves bloom

Whenever Van Gogh is emulated

Not any boat at all

For these pieces of repentance approaching the shore.

(4)

At the ribs of branches
Belonged to this little Kamboza

Are "Siren Sonatas"

Played by Beethoven himself

Like that, in that manner

The un-sung songs

Are livelier in life.

(5)

Going to bring the tears

Are Honey Rivers

Along the blade of my knife

Practically rowing, noticed

Life is existing

As an ocean.

May all be happy and serene.
with lots of Metta.
Vowel
(21 August 2010)