Grottos of our truancy, minute hummingbirds
In the chain smoke of battleships,
As the little yarns of school girls come unbound but
Golden
Across the fabulous lies of the wooden marionettes
Striving to know the living flesh of
Youth:
The donkeys are braying in the carnivals trapped by
The sea
From which the smoke of its children comes up loud,
And worth,
Even to which the incurable lions are loud and opened
Tongued,
And they lie there as the cars drive by like a parade,
Each little child inside them holding the cut roses
That die with the suffocations which
Prove their love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem