I look into hollow eyes
and see wings beating
against a glass pane:
resident of a corralling skull
fed by leaf senses.
We are spawned by an infinite indifference,
obeying some immutable law
formed long ago in cold flaming chaos.
The course of our lives is
as swift and meaningless as rocks in the sky
going to and fro.
Bone beneath the stone
lies with the dust that once imagined us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem