The panes flash, tremble with your ghostly passage
Through them, an x-ray sheerness billowing, and I have risen
But cannot speak, remembering only that one was meant
To rise and not to speak. Young storm, this house is yours.
Let our eye darken, your rain come, the candle reeling
Deep in what still reflects control itself and me.
Daybreak's great gray rust-veined irises humble and proud
Along your path will have laid their foreheads in the dust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Superb! ! ! Deep in what still reflects control itself and me. Daybreak's great gray rust-veined irises humble and proud Along your path will have laid their foreheads in the dust.