Knowing nothing of a girl’s love,
But lost into her
Like vendors in a flea market in the deepening
Shadows underneath an overpass:
And whispering to her after midnight even when she
Is in bed with another man:
That this religion will not mend- it cannot even
Be sold;
And we go to sleep kissed by our dogs:
Like frogs dream to become princess, or even
At least the most ordinary of men.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem