There are days I call upon
My poets
Ghosts on page and wind
I bid them descend from the stars
I bid them break bread and sip wine
I ask them fervently and humbly
Steal me away
Allow me the sight that burns
If but for a moment
I would join them
On the endless wind and
Blow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well imaginative poem. Thanks for sharing.