my river turns
breath stricken around
thrilling stones, laps up
hoarded balcony grey pearls-
birds mutter wild disguise
in rickety rockety sky which
greases silver plateaux
over dwarfs of mist
sprayed with golden glue-
vapour hangs in the loom,
carving cloistered hunches
of red bark in onion slippery
glaze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem