Once in this time when the summer blood
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine
Once in this bread, the summer wind
The oat was merry in the wind;
Man broke the oath, spilled it down.
This bread I break was once the oat,
This wine upon a foreign tree
Thrown in its fruit;
Man in the day or wine at night
Laid the crops low, broke the grape's it’s joy.
When wings wing desire
Took the shire one step higher
I never knew that there were such going-on
In the world between the cover of books
Angel Christmas; I’m coming home to you
Only to wish you well
This flesh you break, this blood you let
My wine you drink, my bread you break.
Grape of root and sap;
Make the desolation in the vein,
Was a savior rarer then
Golden note turn in a groove
Children kept from the sun
In studies of his key-less smile
Wishes of prisoners locked my eye
Given further an indication
Given a bias toward flat screens
Given an amount of vehicle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem