NoPoWriMo Day 3: Wind

Earth turns
And oceans of air roll
From pole to pole
Snarling against my ear,
Their twisting currents
Tying me in ropes of noise
And chopping the river
Into a chaos of waves.
Wind sings its songs of arctic cold
And the lost pathways of the seas.
And singing, snatches blossom from the trees
and scatters spring across the muddy ground.

Айвазовский_(Гайвазовский)_Иван_(Оганес)_Константинович_Черное_море_(На_Черном_море_начинает_разыгрываться_буря)

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Words on the wind

Words shaped in the heart

breathed in the wind

cradled in the ocean

carried on wavetips

to meet the limitless sky

 

Айвазовский_(Гайвазовский)_Иван_(Оганес)_Константинович_Черное_море_(На_Черном_море_начинает_разыгрываться_буря)

 

Paroles nées dans le coeur

souspirées par le vent

bercées par les vagues

le pouls de l’océan

au-delà les confins du ciel

Dog listens to the wind

Quintessential elemental

wind whips waves and flames

from pretty entertainments to a torrent of death

silences all sound but its own voice,

bends and breaks trees that scream possessed.

Not earthbound like heaving oceans and ephemeral fires

nor the great stirrings of the earth’s crust that rise from the inner core

wind flails the arms of galaxies and twists the meteor’s fiery tail

rushing through the darkness between spinning tops of planets.

It knows no bounds, no limits,

tells stories we cannot understand

from the confines of the universe.

Dog knows and hears and lifts his nose in trepidation

to smell the million alien smells, the fears and terrors

carried from the dreadful regions of deepest space

and sneezes on the dust of long-dead stars.

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