I heard the sound of pistons and steel pipes
as checkered flags were drafting in the haze
beleaguering with mental archetypes
paint-d'or - her skin reflected - felt her blaze
- heard pipes in haze by Stingray Chevrolets.
Four hundred fifty cubic inches go,
three hundred ninety horses utter strong
- she gallivants on asphalt men escrow
she tunes in the garage decades erelong
- the strong-er motorists escrow along.
Garage on nimbus tunes her engine-block
gas station of the sixties pumps octanes
the best of driver ghosts and racing stock
shall be the winners of the sky's champagne,
- champagne, paint-d'or and engine-block in rain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem