To meet us at
the door of the smoking
incense
was
life in a mask
by columns of the Temple
we felt giddy then
and scented in
the incense deep
subconscious in our nostrils.
our masks still edged
our noses and our
nostrils fumed
back the scented incenses
and
life was there
still there
life in a mask
by the columns of the Temple.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem