no, not the same night
looks for us.
courageosly
my imagination climbs
upon a domelike sky
abruptly paused,
overripe
with unshed tenderness:
oh my
sweet home's where
nothing wrongs your image,
no one does,
far far above
and utterly beyond
those fussy moments,
sad old buzz -
but let's not speak
of earthly things! -
I'll wrap you round
with my yet unfledged
wings
and handle with care -
we'll pass
this <different> night away -
like grafted roots of
shear-strained stars.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a wonderful poem.. iip