My 'genius of gentle secrets'
The first set of keys to the vault
Whereas eavesdropping whispers
Muzzle in the drowning rain
Thus darker gospel oak
In the eve of the night
By aureole and soft mischief
In fun and frolic nearby
After hours of wisdom
Placed through each room
Upon sweet evenings
With beds and blankets
Such haunted decisions
Waist-deep in the words
To break the spoken silence
At confession and cloisters
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem