What language, what poem
One single vowel waiting for
In the green book of innocent
Vocabulary of my childhood?
Which can not be buried yet
In the life of my poem's heart
And in the youth of forsaken song
O! perfect language, hide in the sweeping
Of my alphabet
But which honey can revive themselves
From the flowers images in my mirror
And whose field of flowes is this, if not belong to
My orphan honey?
Perhaps, dream of vegetation from the real world
What language, what poem
Fled from this single innocent vowel
Vocabulary of my childhood?
For after being forsaken, its images
Changed color and became transparent
As a father before his adopt young son
Or dove grew up in the forests of stork
What language, what poem
Because I'll say: 'one light wrestle with
Weird star! .
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem