Poems of distractions like Ferris Wheels
Who are only here two weeks in
February—
Like my muse's love for me—
Now I pine for her, like a moth to its
Hallucinatory light-bulb—
Clandestine to its penny-ante factories—
Oh, the love of the false lights that
Garlands the dyspeptic cities,
That rides the trains and subways by
Midnights- hasn't the fair gone since from
Here carrying away the illusions of her
As well?
The same thing as a dragon or a unicorn,
Or the crocodile waiting for all
Time far down inside the wishing well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem