Proud is the peacock at the fair
Filled with his own hidden shadows, colors dimmed-
And the long ride from home forgotten:
And all of the faces about him, jovially mooning-
This exhibit is his, and the joys of the world sail
Around, candles in a hallucinatory mass
But not one burning with prayers to him of his
Grayer love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem