The bedspread housed a cobweb
Of claptrap and chairs fully of white;
The reader of lights saw butterflies
Blowing into each other so flights
Came often in and around for more pause.
My corn was the stone of the caught men,
Hauling them was like bed and brightness
For they slept and talked endlessly,
Filling the bright sky as an usual enemy,
These foes were chestnuts to crack.
I saw many of the clockwise travels,
That any other circle of flight would
Defy odds too dangerous and daring,
The catfish saw brotherhood wondering
The whole time of some cloth or skin.
The caught men saw brotherhood,
After such projections into the oceans
And skies of brilliant stars,
Folding their illnesses and ailments
Into the dangerous defenders.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, this is incredible. Magnetic - thanks!