This dusk replete with wavering
Lines of red
That
Together cluster overhead
And tremble
As the humming bird yet
Make not sound.
Inside the trammels of
The dusk
As inside a spent sun
A fadingglory
The spells of the next
Turn
Shift, rattle, glow.
This dusk replete with wavering
Lines of red
That
Together cluster overhead
And tremble
As the humming bird yet
Make not sound.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem