My Work - Poetry
The Island of the CrowsAnd suddenly I find myself in the middle of an island....
Desolate ... barren ... abandoned
Not one human around.
It is inhabited only by ghosts and ghouls,
Not one stream of water to quench the thirst
Or soothe the ears with the music of its trickle.
Not one nightingale singing...
No sound except the caw of the crows
And the howling of the wolves.
No fragrance ... no music ... no colours
No shade of trees ... no branches,
Only dried-up, broken stumps
From which sorrows droop
And in which grief nests.
Not a single inhabited spot
Melancholy is camping everywhere
And salt water surrounds me on every side,
And around me the big, sturdy sharks writhe.
They eye me and snarl
They open their jaws as though they were starved.
O my soul! How wasted are you in this hole
With the years crushed between the hellish hammer and the evil anvil!