Myriads of space and floating time,
I see the things I always see.
I gaze into the warmth of lighted wood
Smoking there and your eyes so green.
Crystal-green streams all along,
And guns were pointing at him.
Flashes in the drip black heaven.
I see the things I always see.
I taste the sweet of swarming bees.
Warm and droning summer lost you.
Whitewashed Hawaiian houses
All the time
And knives reflect his future wound.
Lighted ice on carts and fruits,
I see the things I always see,
I feel your hands of roses dead
Aurora-like and ice-planes dark,
Black smoky ice sheet everywhere,
And ropes get ready, they hang him.
Roses dead - friendship lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If I could write like this....i would never leave the house...truly an awesome display...truly!