Something gibbous just made a sound
Over the traffic which is always motioning like
A snowy reception on the tube of this
Hazy town,
And the sea is just there on the other side of 95-
My muse, but I wonder if I should
Ever go and see her,
Because even when I am in town,
I never go courting my muse,
Too afraid to be found out, to knock on the effluvious
Door of her tide.
She might not let me in- Even worse,
She could laugh at me;
It is better to leave her to her natural motions,
To the easy boys and tourists she lets flood into her
Eyes every day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem