Twenty Four Years Poem by Dylan Thomas
Twenty Four Years
Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave in labour.)
In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor
Sewing a shroud for a journey
By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die, the sensual strut begun,
With my red veins full of money,
In the final direction of the elementary town
I advance as long as forever is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/18/2024 10:32:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
With my red veins full of money, In the final direction of the elementary town I advance as long as forever is. Loved the poem.