From sand to glass
Here, where strangers disembarked in chains,
weeping or rejoicing at the wilderness
on feral shores, shuddering at every call
of cachinnating jackasses, and spirit-birds
that walked by night, wailed like whaups
on Scottish moors;
Here, where cliffs rose sanguine as the Devon
clay near Exeter, barbarous above the mangroves
shepherding the wayward river, someone sang
a ballad of despair called "Moreton Bay",
others plotted how to kill the commandant,
some ran away.
Now, glass towers rear above the water
on the stolen land, quiver on their long
reflections, buildings made
of molten sand…
Свидетельство о публикации №106080600292
в ландшафт дикой местности. болью в висок
стучится далекое эхо. лениво
и больно в стекло превратится песок
photographic.com.ua/gallery/photo.aspx?id=43814
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