No more dreams
my nights are
filled
with
sleep.
Were I to chance
a peek
as
I lie asleep
would
I find
in my mind
the endless place
where
my visions dance
and
the nameless face
stares back for hours
silently
growing flowers
for the funerals
of
my
useless
dreams.
(5-26-1975)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem