Cool as the road is going, goes I,
Underneath the open unabashed day gone sky:
Full of new reposes and places off to the side
To rest and lay easy, and with arms wide open glide:
Receptive to the two lips of wind,
Following the marks of the weathervanes:
Going forth and back again,
Reticulating to the uneasy senses and maybe right over
Holidays of football games and entire student bodies without their
Senses:
Maybe it is I am saying just the things that have no need for saying,
That have already been said and so now in the grass are laying;
But I am still gladdened for these sorry gifts,
These back and forths a back agains, these crisscrosses
Over her heart or some other vital organ, these leeward intersections
To fairytales unspoken:
These gentle crosses also to those previously mentioned fables
Where housewives truly can do falling in love with foxes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem