A hand returns to its side
Spheres move on their golden mechanisms
To the sound of a glass harmonica
A face glowing in a blue light
Walking with closed eyes
A living man made entirely of glass
Converting fragments of life into eternity
Other beings formed of cosmic dust
Bird-like children rolling a gigantic severed head
Down a winding dirt path
His hand in a snowy owl's feathers
Patting the head of a young angel
Seeing the past in pantomime
Incense being lit after a baby's birth
Demons driven off by the tinkling of tiny bells
A little child hands me a rose
We sit, and I watch her compose
Passing my hand through the 3D array
Of my replaying dreams
"You haunted me on Tuesday
Like so many other days
You come to me in solace
And I forever avert my gaze."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem