In the window of my soul
I see the feathers of a bird
Hatched from the egg of a phoenix.
This egg is large, global and polite
But then there is a noise
Of huger dereliction, offering few
Their speaking partners,
Or their just judges.
In the police of the ages,
My scenes of great hearts
Discard the seeing men,
Who demand and forsake,
Demand and forsake,
For their grand justice is a scheme
Following other models of thought.
Why do the just bring justice to the
Ranks we float on, and why do we
See flight of the birds in the way of
Dreamers, whose dreamworlds
We have visited? Where does the wisdom
Spring from?
I have a huge heart of the trials,
My trial is a shedding of the skin
We call human nature.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem