The pure gaze that last kept me
Vexed my indoor life as much as anything.
I collected the old keys and thimbles
Unlike the odd disasters so played.
A gazing woman is nearer to heaven
Than the men who notice them in the sun.
The star itself is sweet for sisters and brothers,
Who have shrilling and remembering
In the wake of time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem