On the cliffs

13 May 2019

On the cliffs of the Algarve we breathe – deeply
the wings of the untamed wind
and dreams cease to be merely waves
I let the ocean lift you and I
without maps, compass or the compromise of buoys

we count no more the lanterns in the sky –
the night is no stranger even to lost seabirds
we sail in triumph with sheets unfurled
pushed through the morning mists

behind the cliffs thoughts swirl
too much carbon dioxide –
ecologists rebuke us (mercilessly)
for these flames that blaze
without limit sparking in our hearts

Translation Graham Crawford
Anturaż, FONT 2019

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