Marmoset underneath the mountain,
Taking shelter in the rain- how pretty you look
When no one else is at home,
Underneath the empty house- the evergreens
Dripping- the cat well fed and indoors:
The lights of the town in a cul-de-sac at the
Basin’s armpit nearly out: an entire town sleeping,
Almost filled with ghosts, because the
Tourists have leapt back near the sea- as if the
The fields in between were lighted by candles:
And the entire country was some kind of mass,
While I fitted all alone and weeping like a crocodile
Beside the canal- and thought of you,
All warm and dry, with your winter’s store buried
Close- and her children cooing in a cradle
That sang beneath the heavens.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem