Much sweats, that clarified
I chased my running sun
It tiptoed to my sigh
In silence, like a gun
Breathed in fields of tall grass
Slept with dimming candles
Heard the far distance brass
No real love to kindle
Waiting, unconscious knew
Like a boatman, at sea
A ship of joyous crew
For home, with lovers feast
Sounds of black and white keys
On mind’s window relied
To grasp their melodies
Tired, I’m satisfied
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem