Wash away sunset onto crimson skies of cumulus clouds weary of eve's chill
Resting neath cover so growlingly
Draped upon a young child's fever
Fading day, as starshine knowing
Each night its incandescent glow
Piercing ominously in the background
Notebook strewn to the lost and found
Creaking limbs in wind do blow
Far off as Topeka and Buffalo
Beyond moons reach to the whims of yesterday
Lacking of action I pray
Wash away
Wash away
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Creaking limbs in wind do blow; far off as Topeka and Buffalo -I like the crimson sky at sunset.