A Turkmen Speaks
in a world to understand
which quite defeats me. On the other hand
I know the brevity of hfe shown by
Lost kingdoms buried in the shifting sand.
I chanced upon
a dome ofporcelain
flist disinterred by wind upon the plain.
Later I sought it with a friend, but found
It disappeared beneath the sands again.
The race that
built it never reappears.
So what of those who, over sixty years,
Ruled here and stole our bread? The answer lies
Beneath our feet: theres nothing dust reveres.
I sank in anxious
prayer upon my kizees
And yet could put no substance in my pleas
The shfting sands of time have worn away
Even the thing that gave our forebears ease.
once passed upon this way
And many other tribes, whose Gods now lay
Their panoply beneath our ancient ditnes,
Where Karl Alaix too is one with Yesterday.
One day, that
dome of porcelain may show
Again its copper in the sit 'irise glou'.
Bitt we pe force must to tomorrow turn
Despite our troit bled thoughts of bug ago.