The morning briskly opened its half lit eyes,
And me, walking out unknowingly into the dusky bedlam
Felt as though the world was one of wind and ice,
A world tilted on sleepy axis toward some distant night.
Above me, around me, and inside me, the
Ear splitting whir of a dark, revolving globe, driving
It’s windy thoughts in strange and unmeasured directions,
Call the subconscious mind from its slumber.
Down streets enthralled by dawns design,
Smaller streets when wrapped in ice,
December is cold and unimaginably large,
Her sun is an extraterrestrial Snow ball, and just as white.
My breath became the Earth’s, the skies bluing
curvature slipped up toward the bottom of the planet,
The pallid-sky light, like an illusion, grips us,
Takes us, wearily, to another time...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem