Burn flame burn!
Feed my soul's quick light
With stolen fires
Of delight
Ringlets of longing
steeped in soft subtle dreaming
Buttressed by the shiny
papers that the natives
find to paste the soul
's gaping abyss of dark and noxious paths
All the while
raising heated fumes from the soul's
once-moderate and muted grace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem