Where was the highway of cold and hot?
The burning stars roared with piercing fright,
With swords in the chirping and daggers
In the hopping, without fury or ferocity.
Then instantly, the ground swam to the river's
End, swimming and quickening in the middle of time.
Gaining ground, the soldiers of the woods created
A sensible holiness for all those in endeavour;
Caught by the whole fiery woods, the sounds of humans,
Although too many delivered, were far too far
In noise and volume that mires fainted and waited
With the fraught natures and facets.
Where was the decision of highways?
No sky thunder veered towards the heavens
And changed hell, for the highway was a sound
Of the highest constitution.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem