Career for knights
In a playground where the perfumes
Of damsels remain:
But they have gone, matriculated up to the
Sky
And college- terrapins out in the open weep
At stages-
Tinfoil thunder with lightning creases
Across the cars that will not stop
Because they think they are going home to
Something real-
As the grass struggles underneath the moon
That gives nothing but illusions with
Its classrooms of stolen light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem