oil-glide -
piston rides upon the ring
to thrum in their betrothal
chrome-hot mirror pipes
blush out reflections
And in his head
he's air-cooled
King of his horizons
talking torque
unto himself
dreaming out a route -
the land of Sixty-Six
And on he roars
baying
his wife at home
praying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem