Parramatta River
Oh, dear breeze of the river,
Heavenly wind of,
The left brink of the milky way
Embrace mine disgraceful bones ,
-Of a bleeding dinosaur on thy bank,
Parramatta
Having, though blurred sights ,
Dared once to take of to paradise,
But was trapped in cages of bones
Compass, astrolabe - prayers,
None of such I had,
williwaw, catch my sails.
Your goddess is on you, River.
Grasp roots of the cruelest season,
And wash the ancient bones and let
Stream kiss the estuary
Drag me to the harbor,
A kin to the ocean , and
Then, sweep up the chocking ashes,
the leftover of forests and bushes,
Lets be mixed up brutally,
like some sibling- beasts.
And having fatal crushes on each other
regardless of the cracks of bare materials;
bones, hearts ... eyes,
and things dried off tears. .
Let her, indeed, wash me
peacefully with the softest hands
And prepares my corpse, and
Lays me down with other species,
all aimless remains of charms,
Or fallen stars - fallen lovers,
who drunk oils and had eels.
Then let me lie down,
And draw with broken fingers;
lines and ancient symbols to read each other ,
Squeaking in time of revelation like wolves
Full of memoirs , full of glory
Then, the triumph is yours, River.
*********
‘The wrecked man is from the ancient world,
He was your sibling ,
Having roots mixed with bones of Thames’ banks ,
Sediments of Euphrates and remains of old tribes,
wedged-shaped scripts
Stylus pen and a kiln to fire on tablets ,
Old letters,snakes, verses, parchments and all lies,
Lost gods of ancient times,
Prometheus the Greek,
Prophets of Barsom and Cedar and Olive trees !
******
“I am setting sail for the havens of the blest to seek the wise sayings of great Siro, --Vergilius-- ”
‘Oh, little man, Siro was old ,’ the river shrieked.
I looked for logogram in the footprints,
Traces of Homer the Great, Odysseus’,
Hector , and the dead sibling of Gelgamish.
Pursued so many avenues of appeal,
But, none of them surface the water, River. .
*******
Drift me , River, with thy stream to
The harbor , the ocean. where your name and mine
Will vanish for good,
Williwaw, catch my sails,
It is the time to find out ,
What a passer by I was
Had no tongue, and had no real shape’ .
******
Dreadful , still flowing to the ocean ,
So proud ,so sweet and so sad,
under so many bitches bridges ,
Oh, Lord of all times,
You have got beauties of all rivers,
Yet, rubbish dump you has been,
Behold tears of virgins,
Clay Cliff, Iron Cove , Subico , Vineyard creek,
the solid metal of bridges,
and myself.
Oh, lord of all times,
You are so gray, so sensible, and so invisible ,
forgotten like a wrecked man stands on your bank,
Laden with so heavy encyclopedia of ethic ,
Overhearing the cold breathing of the city,
On the edge, on the brink of his destiny ,
Hearing the massive step of trains, cars and pedestrian, screaming
‘Excessive brassy jeering laughter of men and women
Playing with rusted- words;
Adorable, fabulous, and marvelous,
where meaningless verdicts are still
Manipulating tears for love and lies to Jesus.
********
Nevertheless,
Despite drought and wastes
I sung, midst hopeless species,
Screaming, unto God
“No one feels me, no one kisses me.”
Then, right there, marvelously ,
Heard my echo, midst the Wuthering wind, breathing ,
I am not a man ,
I am but a great river of Parramaata.”
Kay Hassan
