Survivors
As if tracing a perfect, pre-destined route,
the bird soars
through the air,
turning that clichéd blue sky blindingly blue —
that afternoon sky
under which I am going postmodernly mad
A gaggle of customers stuck outside the restaurant throng
round the door
unable to queue.
The literal translation of this poem was made by Kyoo Lee
The final translated version of the poem is by Sarah Maguire
© Poetry Translation Centre 2004-2010

Comments
No comments have been made on this poem yet! Why dont you start us off?