Whom do I bestow this chill, this full moon haunt
Many images sparkle on night-table
Mounting water course
Within ugres are turning vivid
Suspending my own
Hanging
Upside down
Fragments of self
Revel in isolation now
Every iota alone
Who wins this moony detour
This bankrupt eve
Who knows
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That opening line is brilliant...as is of course the whole thing, I am very much enjoying your pieces!