I have sung you into being through my little doors
Of glass,
As it was butterflies that I had tamed and taught how to
Walk and dance,
And I blow away the hopes of dandelions using the lips
Of my mind,
Like you blew out the candles on your birthday cake
You had not so long ago
At supper time
When the world was young and new and so many waterfalls
Yet did fall,
And smoked and gleamed their destroyed reasons straight back
Up through a world kaleidescoped with prism,
Like a mess of promises from god,
And I laid you down on a matted bed of your favorite color
And made love to you
Alma, while the fish leapt and leapt even higher.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem