The ribs of falling night
Cold flints of Autumn, a dark curtain
Creating two rooms
Nameless stumps of broken teeth
Melted to the white rock jaw,
Heavy as the light is bad,
The path a black swan`s neck
Tubular and serrated,
A tunnel of guarding pines,
And the trees that grab the swallowed sun,
A tense spring under the forest floor
Pushing me along;
The air quiet as a stone`s face,
The half silence of a broken bell,
Leaves moving with small life
So all light has fled into the sky!
Just the small spots of dropped stars;
A road down a distant valley.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A brilliant poem that needs to be read again and again.