And when the day is over… they will come home… and say
Look-- the wind was here
Do you not see how the things upon this table have been moved
And with madness they will throw rocks into the waters
And their anger will break their lips
The air will be vomit-thick with the stench of death
And they will curse the earth until the trees bear no fruit
And the day will surely be over
And I will go home… where the wind has been
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem