i see there battered builders
barred and strung out
and for what oh a little kicks
a cloudy room with rowdy souls
stuck in the cages hanging arms
from the bars.
and when I look into all that glass
I see shelves of colorful kaleidoscopic dreams
I see them poured over ice
that myopic ice
frigid souls gallivanting, sounding like wind in my ears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem