Glimmers and washes and brave speeds
Wheeling to the earth in exultant
craze...
Plunging with sound towards cherried woods,
aboard grace
aboard sun
aboard the terminal wind.
A howl like 'Geronimo' and tucked
tuck into bill
into breast
the feast of seven days.
To feed
a patter of chicks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem