The sky is quiet like the cover of
A book published in the late 50s and
With knowledge comes not shame but apathy;
You figure, then configure your emotions,
Like an atrabilarian disguise,
You know not that you every moment wear;
Life hollers crazily at you at precincts,
If only you could holler back, but no
There is an instant definite for it
And it unfolds exclusively at night-
Say when you can kiss me back, my love,
When the town is hollow like a drum?
Or when there is nothing more to say?
I've waited like a sail waits for the wind,
I've puckered like a baby tasting lemon,
But you've escaped like feeble waves into
The air, the sea, and I no longer see
The demon in the mind, the evil bunny,
There is dishonor now beyond the sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem