for the moment, a Sanskrit illumination-
and clouds slip over a polished moon
they are throwing voices on the
surface of things
I am dying from the sand of all
replies
but this condensation of infinite
sadness
diamond by diamond, will appear
much more like love than
evanescence
so many light-year generations later-
mary angela douglas 25 november 2001
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem