Defiling time, spent tidings of wild hedgerows
We circumvent the feathered wheeling flight
Copse of down in woeful breasted dove
Portents my winded craft will scuttle
As ill conceived a knocking midnight blows
Fat roosting hens past windmills mocking hours
With loosened arms their towers rock and sway
Docked boats row against mad chiming spirits
Nothing nailed down can have a word to say.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem