Bullying faggots of werewolves:
Don't you see that I am still dancing,
Even after the premature ejaculations of
Midnights when the crickets
Are still singing and the airplanes are still
Flying—
Even if the banners and the singsongs of
Carnivals have been taken down,
Even if the Ferris Wheels are no longer
Revolving—
Doesn't it seem to be a beautiful world
With the flowers blooming
That I do not have the power of
Describing—
With the busses turning around like butterflies—
And the illusions of our clandestine
Transparencies
Melting away as if pinwheels upon the brink
Of absolute discoveries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem