The silvery light of your restless night thoughts,
Like wind in the clouds and sightings to see;
Reopened to the earth's old dry apricots,
The gray hands in evening capillary.
Sustain of the furrows in breeze growing,
New and light replenished raging stag tongue;
Wound of its life simple flower glowing,
All what is left when neglectful has flung.
Meandering water brownish yellow gray,
Moving through the marshy soulless soars;
Dimpsy goes to darkness restless in play,
To it's tongueless Philomel corridors.
Closing is in wound with winded up wings,
Inside flawing light where nobody sings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem