By Thomas Page
The Untranslatable
This is a series of poems of words that do not directly translate into English. I have tried to capture the essence of the word in a poem.
The clouds sit above
landscapes embroidered with lace
Of perennials
That may never lie
In the waters of the Lethe.
The world keeps turning
To the arias
Of birds and the pianos
Of the hunter and
The crescendos of
Prey in the tune of forte—
Staccato with fangs.
The most vulnerable
Beast, awestricken with it all,
Hides itself in stone,
Dreaming of the time
When it felt the comfort of
Joyful, stoneless air.
Language: Japanese
Academy of the Heart And Mind 