The president
leads his gawky satellite
in autumn leaf,
and when her orbit
comes around
the brighter suns fire cherishes
eclipse my restlessness with trust.
Their flame-light
probes awakening;
can this weak faith collude
against those eyes?
I laugh,
perishing,
pierced,
answered,
forgiven.
When she runs
her power's easy,
brutal grace,
and a love and pride
die in me,
so this mute thing is born anew
- even before she nuzzles my hand -
flame-warm in blood
her gaze first drew, to rebuke all doubt
I was one of hers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem