dirge of a closed night
of a closed vesper time
and florid dusk:
there were waters
flowing
flowing a little
high
into the fountain of
the dusk
and in the compressed
eyes of sad
compressed:
you will not go
alone
nor will you go
without me:
let my voice and verse
the dirge terminate
for it be sacred
and
sacred the Voice that chants
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem