<i>To the memory of my mother</i>
And now she has over her head brown clouds of roots
a slim lily of salt on the temples beads of sand
while she sails on the bottom of a boat through foaming nebulas
a mile beyond us where the river turns
visible-invisible as the light on a wave
truly she isn't different-abandoned like all of us
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem