I have to go to school again tomorrow
Since that is all there is—
Like starlight and venison and rum—
Down the halls where the girls have turned
More Mexican—
They eat more chili than sugar plums
And at their windows the Virgins of Guadalupe
And in their stone gardens the Pieta—
Uneasy delusions of their apathetic husbands
Around their carports,
Their merry-go-rounds derelict: but I will see
Them tomorrow,
And swoop to see them, promising with my
Eyes the theft of bicycles—
Mutually hoping for a metamorphosis
We cannot give.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem