yes, the sunset is terribly
beautiful
saffron, silky, smooth,
mellow fire of the philosopher
that we dearly
love
we can endure the stink of
the dead bay,
it is the funeral of the earth,
rotten,
the courage of the vultures
dead fish floating
rusty keels of yachts
yes we are the reminders
of sinking flesh, of fagots eating
the brains of
those who cease to be alive,
we pass by
like ephemeral
orange.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem