round the robin all in expletives and down
from the patched briar slinks
the vincular grayling,
trailing
water shaken from his hide
in the shadow
of the one left beside the moat
tell of the banking fires and the twice-wished
weltering that followed you to the diviner side
long before the drawing was quartered
into
arable, friable coat-pullings that
bored the cornflowers like some jangling emetic,
blew in your ear 'til you squawked an acquiescent yawp
and
as quickly revoked it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem