Aplomb
And still;
Sometimes the sound
of a sane night.
Blinded from light;
warm, broad, and healing.
The sound of the night;
snoring, blurting
In wild farts and regrets.
Yawning;
Deceased;
buried under blankets.
To wake to hear
The sound of a drunken and angry night
Her rage, her torment;
rolled and couched in a street corner;
trembling to winter massacre.
Such a cruel night;
The tormentor
Whistling to loitering colds,
The wind to stop by
to harass coverless bodies.
May tomorrow come
To tell the sound of night;
dark as her heart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem