To roll in the sky died, for offence,
Ghosts of rigid kind define our alacrity.
This ghost charms my menacing instants,
Exemplifying the power of time, as it is space.
Internal terms boil on the mind,
Willing injuries of neglect as forerunners,
Winning hearts and minds of a forgotten past.
My, my joining to the ground carries a mortal
Wound, to see and hear, to watch and feel.
This rolling carries me further than crevices,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem