a woman, sunken in stars,
mirrored in hate, can love a
little and much unloved can pray hardly
wanting more. this child woman
she wants her hell in
mountains and ditches dug beneath a
heart which clings to only one.
her hands touch the moon
and leave it after cold. kisses
are but dropped deceit and trust
is lost on the iced arms
of a willow laughing.
her price is so low a tear
will buy or perhaps a pocket of pity
will fill the hole with
wax, but it will only melt.
regret is too good for her -
and shadows too welcome.
(February 4,1965)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem