The night looked really pretty as it happened unto you:
And you looked really pretty eating all that was brought to you;
And we went up to Orlando and watched the surplus
Timbuktu:
They were brandishing their swords that the waves had brought for
You;
And they galloped through every theatre that was an enclosed space,
And the put on their mock battles and their mock loves for you;
So at night when they stole you away from me,
They made mock love to you, and so inside you their mock gardens grew,
While I wept and rubbed my star-scarred eyes on the roller coasters
All alone:
I wept and tried to remember if their caracoles could take me home;
And through the haloes of a terrible jubilee I watched him carry you
On his back and across the sea;
And I cried to my own mother for you, but she was all dried up for me;
And I could not metamorphoses,
So I stuck and burned like a match for you until there was nothing left
For you to remember me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem