Gazing into the cheval glass
A catch of a shining icon,
An Emitted lucid container
Lento crusading towards the adjacent cast,
Graciously through a thready passage
The fourth dimension descending onwards
Inverted, more and then some more,
A story retold as seasons retire, one by one
Plunged by the backwash towards an inevitable moment
I'm still standing on the same spot though
Still no more judicious thoughts
Same old same
Lacking behind
Turning around in my own grave..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem