Pronouncements, too wished
Out trance, but part
Poets but dabble in
The mage's art.
A trick in the mind
Not in the glass
Smokes all their futures;
A still coy mass!
Working out from no
Carnival tent.
A desert, Time's sands;
Infestive spent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem