Who will die first,
the Macaulay Culkin
of the Schools or his mother?
Eyes meet, furtive
in this pane of silence.
A heat-wave at midnight.
From the garden she widow-nurtures
the vapour-fleece
of a departed plane fans
across
Vega
Regulus
Zubenelgenubi
statues by a street-lamp's
mute sentinel
in awe they would die together
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem