Gedicht
Adil Jussawalla
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Ships fastened to water,A long line of ships this hot
Afternoon, stand like homes
Abandoned for the day.
There are things not in the picture:
The tower with its roof askew,
A drowned garland.
The ships came with the view.
A mill rots, a freighter pulls
Away. Hills rise
Straight out of Africa; a mandolin sounds.
Palms along the coast become
A line of leaves above a door,
Withered long past welcome.
The sea a massive bolt, shot across.
© 2002, Adil Jussawalla
From: Poetry Wales, Summer 2002, Volume 38, No. 1
Publisher: Poetry Wales,
From: Poetry Wales, Summer 2002, Volume 38, No. 1
Publisher: Poetry Wales,
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Gedichten van Adil Jussawalla
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Ships fastened to water,A long line of ships this hot
Afternoon, stand like homes
Abandoned for the day.
There are things not in the picture:
The tower with its roof askew,
A drowned garland.
The ships came with the view.
A mill rots, a freighter pulls
Away. Hills rise
Straight out of Africa; a mandolin sounds.
Palms along the coast become
A line of leaves above a door,
Withered long past welcome.
The sea a massive bolt, shot across.
From: Poetry Wales, Summer 2002, Volume 38, No. 1
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