I steal the ghosts, from others words;
I lift the toast, things seldom heard
A breath from one goes out, and then
Another creature breathes it in.
The idea that was dead, in you;
I dig it up, and brush the loose
Debris away, and hang to dry
To have my way, with words gone by.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem