22
And so
good-bye to flowers
Good-bye to the purple iris
Considerations
of time and pansies
afternoon
glass (4 pm)
hillside...
Of life
Of what the desolate imagination
makes of it
Of what is
to come
for someone in this room
Because
you'll forget who you are
Who you were
or wanted to be
This is going to
make me dance
Your obnoxious soul
Pestering twilight
with its presence…
Somebody put a head on the body
and an arm, and a leg
and stuck it all back together again
Then it sat up and said, 'Hello...'
Ah, the sweet cardboard
As it's never been
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem