Diana, Diana: you are real while I am wrecked,
And upon all of this sorbet I have collected by senses for
Another try:
Another roll of the dice into the epiphany of rainbows:
Another shot at bull’s eye; and Diana, Diana, this is just another
Trying while all of my veins are just as cold as ice,
Because I could never be a university professor, could never
Even be your niece, and all the pools, the pools of affluent houses
Sure do, sure look nice:
And yes, yes I am wilting, wilting on your windowsill:
A beautiful, beautiful flower that yes, yes! Once was real:
And now is just a flower past midnight,
Tearing itself to death, picking its petals and smelling its earthy,
Earthy breath:
While fireworks, fireworks shoot off underhand like softball in the
Working class parks of Royal Palm Beach,
And of Never, Never Land.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem