In the late night listening from bed I have joined the ambulance or the patrol screaming toward some drama, the kind of end that Berky must have some day, if she isn't dead.
The wildest of all, her father and mother cruel, farming out there beyond the old stone quarry where highschool lovers parked their lurching cars, Berky learned to love in that dark school.
Early her face was turned away from home toward any hardworking place; but still her soul, with terrible things to do, was alive, looking out for the rescue that--surely, some day--would have to come.
Windiest nights, Berky, I have thought for you, and no matter how lucky I've been I've touched wood. There are things not solved in our town though tomorrow came: there are things time passing can never make come true.
We live in an occupied country, misunderstood; justice will take us millions of intricate moves. Sirens wil hunt down Berky, you survivors in your beds listening through the night, so far and good.
Volunteers needed to translate poetry into different languages. Please help us correct the translation of these poems. We currently have 79,663 translations and are trying to create the largest and most accurate database of world poetry translations. We have started with machine translations which are very inaccurate. Please translate your favorite poem on this site. You will be given credit for your translation and a link to your site if desired. COPYRIGHT NOTICE: These poems have been gathered and submitted by many of people, and from many sources. Most have no copyright. However, some may may have copyrights. We have tried to collect poems that appear on many external sites where the author seems to want to disseminate. If you are an author and do not want your poetry translated into other languages then send a removal request and it will be promptly removed.
McGill RSS Feeds
A