My love took the shovel and filled in its grave
All mammoths sharpened tusks were laid
A quilt for warmth thrown over
and brass guilt cast away
I’ll face you with my arsenal
my arsenal of fears
I’ll steer them down your roads
long away from here
I’ll face you with my arsenal
my arsenal of dreams
They’ll breathe down the neck of your doubts
and hurl them to the breeze
They’ll grace you with all lack of greed
and everything all free
They’ll pace to you passing mud in the weeds
and passing the fray in the weave
I’ll steer them down the long roads
foreign to me here
I’ll face you with my arsenal of fears
my arsenal of dreams
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem