A little further on, I mean...
I would have found the last pursuant lost...
Ossified between the pages of a book...
Names that mean at first, and then they forget to mean...
I found only shells of what I sook...
I dwelled more in the purposes than the memory of things...
The looking-glass no longer held my image...
But the image of metallic fear...
I stared long and hard into the surfaces of things...
All is surface, that was my reasoning...
And all I found was trepidation for my care...
The length of my shadow was systems-forming...
And I could have all the mindset my pleasure dared...
The wideness of my shadow was it's beauty...
And it's depth was dimensional repute...
If I drowned in my shadow, it would save me...
If I lived I would only appear more drowned...'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem