Quivering in an entropy of
Miles;
While I really love you on
The highway, Alma,
The skeletons of the donkeys smile
In their overturned avenues;
Figuring out in their rock gardens
With so
Many towers
Why it is that people have to
Be frightened-
On their birthdays
As it is with so many
Of their holidays
And the curtains curl their lush toes
For the
Attentive
Audience
Who closes their eyes and smiles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem