Unborn Child
P Patti Masterman
0
Altın Yaprak
Unborn child, rocking in safe harbor,
Counting the days of his corded life:
Doesn't know he's being expelled
From the nearest paradise on earth;
Warm garden, of his mother's Eden-
Knows nothing of screaming,
Guns, or endless weeping.
Unborn child, better to be born dead
Or miscarried, the first trimester
Before all the days of your life arrive;
Better to remain ignorant
Of what on earth's called being alive;
Mother's caresses can't tide the day,
Such a shame, that you cannot stay-
But even inside, you're not safe.
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş