To draw black glass,
to play the hubris and sublime,
to paint with chalk of words
the expanse over.
The moon over the cloud,
like a japonerie,
will strike upon night verse.
And through the broken glass,
ache overtakes.
The gambler’s time has come.
The dark imagery.
Still pillars.
Towards Zero.
Amen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem