'O THE MIND, MIND HAS MOUNTAINS.'
I am angry
at this world
that dares to
throw a scrap of sunlight
shredded through lace
precious as it is
dust motes dancing
about your face
you a smiling
photograph
that the sun attempts
to bring alive
& fails.
The fact of your death
still remains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem