shipwrecked delirious at 89 bunker street
there lives my cloudberry doll
singing the songs of the blue hour
there lives my chantress with wax wings
my dormant (tor) mentor of keyhole view
reanimér les mémoires d'automne
in cryptic silence of ramshackle silo
too late! I noticed the pallor of peonies
now here come the sleepers of far-off borders
les visiteurs de minuit,
the soldiers of melancholy
obsessed with sacred orders
and the sleepers shall not be awaken
for their spirits are in a perfect rapture
along with pain that maddens my brain
that's when the hunter becomes the capture
that's when their sight turns into sick
la gloire ignoré, les yeux fatidique
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem