Day Sixteen: I tried to follow the prompt but my brain was not working the right way for a translation poem. So, here's what I did instead.
It's the hollow note
before the song begins
and the players move,
a stone-dry reminder -
like a bad joke
made in bad taste
by a bad man.
It's the last chirp
in the new forest
as the hammer strikes
and the powder lights,
words in flight
dying slowly,
piercing clouds.
It's the sharpened knife
descending, devilish,
begging your forgiveness
for its master's many ills -
lonely at night
and, mostly,
feeling misused.
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Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Middle Brother, Middle Brother
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