I try, match in the wind- I flame-
And die after school- the busses leave me
Like Monarch butterflies,
The lions finish the yawn,
And I walk home across the canal
The blue gills and alligators underneath me
But above the stolen bicycles,
And I think of the imagination of words;
I give them an entire cathedral
Which I hold in my heart,
As across another canal the sugar cane burns,
And the men I will never know attend to it;
But they are burning up my muse
Until the entire sky is taken up with her,
With the beautiful goddess who forms above
The earth in the songs they will never know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem