This engine drones on in its tedious unimaginable mission
Its fire is breath and glucose, lit and blazing like billions
Of tallow candles.
I am able to locate these places of fire and water
But where is my seat.
My throne is porcelain seated atop a wax crown
And yet I strain to find the place I dwell
My question does not echo and the voice which
Throws stones at shadows
Has no place amidst this burning place
When this voice is silenced by a mystery of unrepentant cline
Of unrelenting arms which wheel across a face
I will then greet my echo of breathing and enduring
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem