A tree up in the thorn,
A skull up in the tree,
A bird up in the skull,
A boat up in the bird,
And in that boat
Sails me;
Where am I going for so long
Worshiping you, but just in the theatre
Where the sky seems to shine true;
Flying all in a moment
With my arms outspread across the sheer
Cliffs,
The beautiful in the rippling silence;
The flat nosed face sunburned,
Perfect, a palate of the end of the day,
Absentminded, of apathetic happenstance;
And watching me fall, such an insignificant
Bird- such an insignificant thing
But for a moment reduced from grace;
The final sigh, the unseen release,
Sails me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem