Beneath the moon is full a promenade
a sightless head
turns half around to gaze
into the world.
Flash bulbs pop and dying fleash
upon the ground
in heaps
the headless torso rolls.
I see what Jesus said is not enough
to make you think
about the others that now wait
all such things we have in common
just as well.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem