Your emotions
are distance that light
runs
yet they be finite distances
between whose poles-extremes
the wires of exotic Eastern
fluttered as a cranking iron door
in the wild winds
and there walks solitude and
it found
that she walked amongst graves and
amongst monuments
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If the opening lines refer to the measurement of the space-time continuum by means of the LIGHT-YEAR measurement, the fourth line truncates the cosmic scope by the phrase FINITE DISTANCES. Then your poem presents a metaphor of an iron door opening/shutting, in any case, revealing a dour scene of solitude amid graves and monuments, which all suggest a dead past, or dying present. Is this vision similar to Matthew Arnold's we are CAUGHT BETWEEN TWO WORLDS, ONE DEAD, THE OTHER STRUGGLING TO BE BORN?