If my swallowed breath to whistled fall airs
No longer does justice to tricks pigeons play
Noted by passerby's of such humble greys
Then the tectonics of these oceans of mine
Have drowned any clear path between you and I
And If I could catch the words again and again
By the opening of blinds between tongues
I would feel as though the seas would be much dryer now
But even pigeons have mastered such silence
And I'm not sure how much more to swallow
To get to you to see what I need you to see
Or how far for me to go to get you there
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem