he frowns
drowns in sleep
his head fed by a string
it drapes the weather over him
he lies and watches
the moon
a confident polished shoe,
stares up
watches only what he can hold
the stage flames lick up like a carpet
(enough said)
the world begins
and under it the music
his thin arms and boy head
the first shuffle
then a clear thimble silence
echoes
touches
him
tells him
to come back to bed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem