Cloud fields change into furniture
furniture metamorphizes into fields
an emphasis falls on reality.
'It snowed toward morning,' a barcarole
the words stretched severely
silhouettes they arrived in trenchant cut
the face of lilies….
I was envious of fair realism.
I desired sunrise to revise itself
as apparition, majestic in evocativeness,
two fountains traced nearby on a lawn….
you recall treatments
of 'being' and 'nothingness'
to appear from variable directions—
they are orderly as motors
floating on the waterway,
so silence is pictorial
when silence is real.
The wall is more real than shadow
or that letter composed of calligraphy
each vowel replaces a wall
a costume taken from space
donated by walls….
These metaphors may be apprehended after
they have brought their dogs and cats
born on roads near willows,
willows are not real trees
they entangle us in looseness,
the natural world spins in green.
A column chosen from distance
mounts into the sky while the font
they will destroy the disturbed font
as it enters modernity and is rare….
The necessary idealizing of your reality
is part of the search, the journey
where two figures embrace
This house was drawn for them
it looks like a real house
perhaps they will move in today
into ephemeral dusk and
move out of that into night
selective night with trees,
The darkened copies of all trees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem