If it pleases you then yes;
If it does not please you, then forget it:
For I am displeased with my form, and I would like to
Travel around a rich cul-de-sac in a park
Where the storm clouds belly and press cannibal song birds
To each blade of grass;
And eventually she drains herself while you are so full and
Far away;
While they say that it is the very same moon over all of us,
But I do not believe them: here is my moon over my world,
And where is your moon; where is your world?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is my favourite. I so often look at the moon and wonder how it could be shining over someone else far away. I wonder, too, if someone I love is admiring the moon at the exact same time that I am, and if that brings them any closer to me... Of course not. Where is your world? The perfect ending!