It hurts:
And the cars start in the morning-
Go off
To work,
Like the last breath of a newborn
Of great grandfather is breathing,
As the morning
Surmounts
Disney World,
And the alligators pant, if they would-
And a bit of truant sunlight
Lies making love
With elegant herons and deer and
Tadpoles in a make-believe
Woods
That is sorrowful enough to be a swamp-
As you hold his light up
To your face, having already turned down
Mine-
Your brown skin like the copper of
A snake with emotions and lips
And soul big enough to have
Swallowed my heart like a candied apple,
Then turned away from the fire,
Hips and elbows already attracting
To chrysalis of every sort and kind of
Metamorphosis:
And you step into that threshold commonly
Bled from all of the traffic
Back into the waiting constellations you
And he have somehow born.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem