The mornings were brighter than the sun and the stars,
Like some safari that imagines, that stays awake;
Then in this sahara the face explodes to be the sleep
Of a deep sleep so like dying that death has overcome;
The minute hare is an animal of mild health,
He marries the newts for the religion
Just as we eat chickens and pies of vegetables.
Chairs are sorry, saris are taken up as closets,
But the images of youth pervade all the harmony
Of untruth, so evening awakens the mind
Just like the evenings of a brighter night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem