If you are no longer interested in the crude sky
I’ve painted for you along my
Hapless sidewalks right where one story book city
Ends into another,
Here is a knife of rain and a muted song;
Here is the quality and fineness of love you’ll have
With him,
I can guarantee you, if you end it and make
A canal to dredge my throat, clearly separating
The two irreconcilable countries of reason and love:
This is the hapless thing I want,
To be anonymous feet up and bloated and enjoying
The sun,
Sniffed at by a hungry dog who is getting curious ideas
When once before
He would have considered me friend and master.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem