By Thomas Page

The Untranslatable

This is a series of poems of words that do not directly translate into English. I have tried to capture the essence of the word in a poem.

 

Pressed flowers–

Lost hue of the spring.

The dying lights of a misaligned gaze

That once bridged two rivers hoping for a common source

Hoping to embrace in one bank.

The peeling of paint,

Mixed with turpentine,

And the stains on the easel

Thrown with ambition

Into the garbage.

The sandcastle destroyed by the low tide,

Its turrets defenseless,

To the beachcomber who lost interest

Their footprints effaced by the tide.

 

Language: Russian

 

One thought on “The Untranslatable: Razbliuto

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