It poured in bunches, quickening
Acacias that needed no quickening
Once in the train I cogitate on
Fevered awareness in my skin-pores
A youth makes small-talk over chicken-rice
Aliveness eats aliveness, recently dead,
I withdraw in pretended disinterest
And submit to forced sedation
Let eyelids fall smooth and unaware
Followed by forced ceasing of being
Like that piece of once-aliveness
Unkicking in an alive stomach
A griping baby howls awareness
Then thick curtains fall over the train berth
Today and I have both ceased.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem