In my dream
You stood in a wooden frame
And zipped down the hill.
Illogical, of course:
Friction would not have
You do it. But you were free
And unrestrained by danger,
Laughing off
The collision at the end.
I was breathless
When I reached you,
That bump on your head.
The beginnings
Of a unicorn,
Unreal and undead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem