Overly puzzling lovers out on the open tarmac,
And it rains:
Which makes it safe, because it stops the airplanes,
And the dogs from racing,
As I have held you a couple times this way, the landscaping
Rattling with tears of green
Which peel down the houses: the beds are warm,
The horses sleep standing, and after it all, the clouds still
Pile up over amusement parks whose astonishing bleachers
We can drink and then pass out under;
And let the butterflies land and nap, drooling homeopathically
On us,
Or at least let us dream that they do this, as the baseball players
Come like ruddy wedding processions, and carry on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem