Smugly the candle sits blinking,
its Cyclops eye waxes tears
as words steam to fire furnaces.
Temperatures burn bare threads that tie us,
and hell breaks loose like Dante's Inferno
scorching sinew of the soul.
Pupils float in pools
like buoys learning life's duties.
Tongues are dragons with flung flames,
while joys of yesterday yield to weary ways
and limp the lane with pastures pressed in frames.
Glares tube no glue to mend pieces broken
and Medusa holds statues in her eyes.
Now dust the dismal days on sight,
and ears are deaf to the muttering noise,
Yellow leaf trembles at the breeze in flight -
as the path to peace streams water in a pond.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem