A dream of my father
Works its way in rivulets along the pane
Of my day
I cannot stand still long enough
To meditate against the glass
And ponder
But move caught
Unfree even in full swim
The dream
Its rivulets like nets
I know not how
To break away
And if I did would not
Know where to go except to rage
Back into sleep
Finding my father alive in the inerstices of my brain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem