So hard is the disillusion of the body—
The miscegenation of time and gravity,
The wilting of Disney Word like wet,
Old wood into the peat bod—
Eventually nobody gets up,
And the robbers lose their gold—
What is left of the world gets beautiful by
Itself—and heaven happens like a fireworks
Show for a blind man who disappeared
Many years ago.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem