It must be great to
come back to earth
in a tin can too hot
to touch
Ive always wondered how
the parachute survives
all that delicate silk
even if somehow they make
it fireproof you come back
burnt on one side
and underdone on the other
and if it all goes wrong
youre toast, I saw this
girl reborn in a photograph
in black and white
being helped out of a Soyuz
capsule like she was a
germinating out of her
steel seed. She was
helpless you could see
her legs couldn't take
the sudden weight of being
and that's what it must have
been like in the beginning
a few people in villages
learning how to make
something hot, and with
existences, all fragile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem