In Soho stained waiters
extinguish the last fuse of today
An empty land echoes discord
Velvet dolls with brainy defuse
lean closer
Harlequins of the night
scratch their gilded fears
The little bird has flown
Avoiding the blood soaked chemises
dreams of the night
turn disown
whispering the torn curtains
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem