The sun is crawling through the sky—drinking and singing songs:
I lay in my bed alone,
My lips pressed to a canal of rum—
And the sorrows of the flesh overspill and overspill—
The fish are tender-hooked—
But it seems alright to believe that they will survive
For a little while until they are ganged up on—
And for the while that you live in your window above
The clouds—can't you think of me,
Swimming four-legged and with a tail beneath you—
Trying to sing you the songs of a prince along his journeys—
Trying to captivate you until the airplane that I am sure
Will take us away touches down—
And all of the lights go out—
And all of the fake tourists leave their theatres
And stadiums underneath the mountains
And I can spare enough time for you—
Imagining that both of our hearts will remain
Captivated and alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem