»
Archives
»
Open Poetry #46
»
candomblé
| Open Poetry #46 |
|
candomblé |
|
|
2islander2 Member Ascendant
since 2008-03-12
Posts 6825by the sea |
The dancers form a circle of sighs, with voices suffocated on the night of chromium They are dressed in white as ghosts Subjected by the religion, the sound slaves. I look at them, sat on a chair, Remote from the night when slide their steps, Foreigner come from a materialist world Where we exchange the iron rather than pain. The ground resists and their voices rebel, Softly, monotonous and subdued, Their feet rub as lizards Amazed on the night which inhales them, unfaithful. Here I am in this Brazilian world of everything Little comfortable, witness of the past which moves, The trance of the dancers did not take place, The ground resists and my voice rebels with night. |
||
| © Copyright 2010 yann rolland - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Prasad Nataraj Senior Member
since 2008-05-29
Posts 1149Bangalore,India |
Fine writing Yann, “Here I am in this Brazilian world of everything Little comfortable, witness of the past which moves” such true lines. "Hardwork pays in the long run" |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
