Boundless airs suppress my conduct to be,
The atmosphere leaps out to the spine;
Boundaries are amiss, my strength is sudden,
And appearing before me an apparition.
My ghosts supper on the mixtures of this galaxy,
My small ghost opens the window of the lords
Of the galaxy, so homely star systems feed.
The food for dozens of spectators is sight itself,
Fixing the legends of old, the ancient lights.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem