(i am sleepy but my hands
are still crazy about poetry...
it is a living river fed by
a heavy rain from those big
virgin mountains
the roots of trees are no longer
cups and basins
and so the flood begins
the rivers
tributaries twenty in all
run
towards the big mouth
of the bay
where they unload their murkiness
swallowed
by the royalty of
deep blue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem