Ebullience, in one street
And jumping onto another,
With one more cascade,
And the dais of ascendance is deaf
And dead,
Sleepy hollowed misfortune,
Worth a dime
Worth a tiny portion of morbid heaven,
Hoisted far enough
So you couldn’t reach with your
Flimsy, hands of reflux
Head beamed towards the heaven,
Feet on the ground,
Dreams that are poorly woven
Made no gargantuan sound,
Dreamcoiling around the
Tree of cypress and the hostile ground
Look at me transcend
Over some transitory afternoon bliss
Shifting weights onto another,
I see some light.
I see some naked light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem