I oppose beaming eyes in straws,
Surprised by hands on the coat,
Seeming to smile in warm cotton,
Little will I weep and be wept,
For fixtures of the heart abound.
I approach nooks and crannies
While I sleep, the dream has smiled
And surprised the souls with a sally,
Handing in a flourished garment
This stronger than the sleeves.
This bed has opened its eyes,
To harangue patrons who deceive,
Long enough to slowly rouse
A finger and a sleeping touch,
They are unmatched in their comfort.
The eyes in the mirror study a complaint,
My now-ruined water running as I look
Shudders like shadows of the deep,
In the corner of sleep is a turn of rolling
And seats of learned beauty too cruel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem