Not before turning back on
First wonder-lit things
When for their appeal, death and decay
Already begins.
Unheard of, hard to believe
Rank none retrieve.
Onward this pirouette step
Exultant does soar
Love's, not one minute, in the making
And for winged gore
A heart's, crashed; inoperable.
Though mendable.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem