Distant ships on a river
Passing down a stream of a
Millennium's eyes-
I no longer call you on your
Birthday-
I've forgotten how your
Mother lost her rabbits
Like the gifts I bought
For your children-
As the heavens breed above
Th earth
Multiplying their decorations
Of mirages-
Where immature gods swim
Like tadpoles,
Minds of dispossessed zygotes
Heady from the featherlight
Atmosphere-
Underneath the Misconceptions of
Caricoles,
Fathers of fledgling tourists
Take winebagos through
The arid regions of
New Mexico's desert
We stole away from your
Grandmother who never guessed
That we would ever think of you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a very good poem. It is almost as if it was written by E.E. Cummings or A.E. Housman. You did a great job with this poem, for I can feel your emotion in it. Keep on writing. You do a fantastic job.