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My Work - PoetrySoliloquy of a Grand TreeAn exhausted traveller takes to my shade,He shuts his eyelids and sleeps soundly. He dreams and dreams. Absolute quietness falls over the world And darkness shrouds the Earth. * * * * A rosy thread emanates from the east The birds take to my branches and sing The leaves dance under the gentle breeze, The fragrance intermingles with the music, A refreshed face slowly opens its eyes Like an egg hatching Happiness sparkles in his half-opened eyes The smile spreads its wings and rests on his lips. When the leaves dry up on my branches And all my umbrageous shade leaves for ever. The wood-cutters whirl their axes at my trunk But I might become a bench in a garden cradling lovers, Or a window through which the rays of sunrise seep, Or my wood might be coverted into paper On which would be written love poems or letters of longing, Or I might be cut into wood for the fire place And radiate warmth copiously And feel that even at the moment of my extinction I could still be creative! Cardiff, 1986 |
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