they'd been sunk in ink,
blue as new art,
propped on the black twigs
I'd hoped would spring to leaf,
dead of winter, table clear
but for the cut-glass vase,
blue lilies, monstrous
gift of fun.
jasmine I won't put with them,
nodding and tapping
each side of the glass,
no deepwater colour
drunk from darkest dye
of too much knowledge
corn-yellow starlets
floating over life.
blue, yellow, they flyte
one side of the room
to the other
kept apart
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I would like to translate this poem