of barked shins and buds,
apposing cicatrices...
intransigent trails
as uninvaded
traces of the greenbead rain
that fed fragile seed
have left fairy rings
to dance in, masquers bowing,
little else to see
the intrepid eye
of a plainclothes wanderer
might discern more.... less....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem