Smoky questions
ready to sink
in any place, anytime
time fades like
specks of powder
in moon-bound volcano
harassed by thunder cries
blessed by ashed feathers
down to crimson lake
stupid call of nature
a shout out to fellows
in yellow arrows going up
the lone shrill of glee
crossing across rivulets
overflowing with mystic tears
where finest drops are harvested
tunes sway in folks’ heads
stringing every fiber
of time and space
things harnessed
from best lights of future
seem temporary, leaving easily
momentary presents handed
to match expectations
but still remain as illusions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem