All of it failing into a fire- while the fish leap
At first lucky,
But then expire: before the lips of the fox
Who leaps, it sears:
Beneath the airplanes, it wastes its years:
And burns away,
A tinderbox that was at first a music box:
At first an heirloom
Now a souvenir, and not one of the handy pilots
Seems to care,
But closes his eyes as the ship is going down,
Or kisses the stewardesses, one by one,
As they happily leave his burning town.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem