My family slept those level miles
but like a bell rung deep till dawn
I drove down an aisle of sound,
nothing real but in the bell,
past the town where I was born.
Once you cross a land like that
you own your face more: what the light
struck told a self; every rock
denied all the rest of the world.
We stopped at Sharon Springs and ate--
My state still dark, my dream too long to tell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lovely poem. my contribution: hometown roadside imposing giant rock so much it holds for me