the high trees in the woods
are restless
this sunset
and will more
restless be
in the shade of the dusk
in the realm of the red
horizons
the blank brain suffers
from
the hammers of the night
before night comes:
the town reflects herself
upside down in the
on flowing river slow
and sub-conscious.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem