Dressed
In
Recycled
Minerals
And
Bronze
And
Metals
The
Boy-general
Roamed
In
Tatters
Clanking
In
The
Silence
Of
The
Night.
The
Moon
Rebuked
Him.
The
White
Stars
Hotter
Burnt
With
Rage.
But
That
Was the
Sub-Conscious
Was not it?
For he was dreaming.
Laughed
Eerie
The
Mask
Of
The
Night
And
Harlequin
Jumped
Kangaroo-style.
For the Sub-Conscious
Mattered
For he was dreaming.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The main character, a boy elaborately costumed to play a game of make-believe bustles in the night under a disapproving moon and malevolent stars. He is oblivious of their negative light. He is secure in his daydream in which presumably everyone he meets treats him with the deference due a general. But the real drama in this poem is the personification of the hostile celestial bodies.