Eyes shadowed with stars
The not-quite silence rests
On your bleached cheek;
Trees adorn your faint skin
The sun does what a sun does
And melts the water from your face.
A passing fox kisses your hand
The moon lights or not;
All this as the busy race by;
Under orphaned bridges, tearless,
You are lost for all the wrong reasons,
But safe under loam
Sleeping in the ground like a blues.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very unique one from you and definitely thought-provoking which is often the case in your work...really enjoyed this poem!