Ascendant solitary starlight,
Unanchored symphony of collisions;
We meander you into strange constellations
Of dignified, but well-meant conflagration.
Imagining god, in primeval longings
Incoherently left you thronging,
Like random bits of glowing precipitate,
That human beings found the need to titrate-
A rational river, organized by myth
And orbiting illusions, to ask what if-
Cultures peopled by giants and gods,
Had monsters gaping through the starry sod.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a picture you paint...stunning! Regards. Craig