The river walks without shoes
unsinging the night's hooligans
that scamper across the city
unbreasted years ago for
hawks of peace now midgeted
to amuse mornings that gaol
all fire and thoughts smitted by stones
of figures-to-be hewing
new melodies by black grass
past my shadow overarching
all listening and light and cliff
that hang the tale or pain the legs
no matter I walk without
the rest of the ground I tead
like river droning day's ashes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem