She speaks in her way of her savage seas
With unknown algae and unknown sands;
She prays to a formless, weightless God,
Aged, as if dying.
In our garden now so strange,
She has planted cactus and alien grass.
The desert zephyr fills her with its breath
And she has loved with a fierce, white passion
She never speaks of, for if she were to tell
It would be like the face of unknown stars.
Among us she may live for eighty years,
Yet always as if newly come,
Speaking a tongue that plants and whines
Only by tiny creatures understood.
And she will die here in our midst
One night of utmost suffering,
With only her fate as a pillow,
And death, silent and strange.
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From guest Lulu (contact)
This poem is actually about a person particularly of a young girl who has been tore away from her home land and now just reminisces on her past but as she does so her life dwells into a spiral of living and just drowning in sorrow -
nature
From guest Melinda (contact)
its been difficult for me to find more information about this particular poem. My understanding of this so far is that Mistral speaks of nature and the ocean. if anyone would be helpful enough to enlighten me on anything i may be misinformed on please feel free to do so: with thanks, scorpio9er@yahoo.com -
This I love. Her love is silent, as is mine. That much I can understand.
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