I was a hierarchical vision of the world,
attached on invisible connections
between the wide cranes and the stars,
between the imagination and the jump of the salmons,
between the reason and the bunches of grapes,
but the poetry burned the missing horizon
and the exact geometry of your eyes
drew fruity shadows on my well ordered roof,
house full of luminous contradictions
I live now in the book of your hands,
I abandon the stiff dreams of the World
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem