we night poets
are not supposed to stay
in the room and write poets
at night
we are meant to be
fliers, bats, and God forbid
vampires
in deeds, hidden in thoughts
least in words
we are werewolves
howling in the deepest
silence of our souls
to those who are still awake
we must be pungent
like musk, restless, unloved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem