Lately I have felt the wind, in all its pleasant coldness,
Reminding me of walking, how to take stormy strides,
Even if it is not truly me taking them.
A major thing has happened at the mouth
of dusk, tumult making more noise than should be heard,
waves eating the rest of our drifting resolve,
and I, at the end of the rapid sea, living within the sound,
at the core of where life stays mute, where love goes cold,
where the bottom of rage shows its hue and its sea-washed eyes.
To be extended outward into the world helps the world,
helps the stage to be set; the Shakespearean way it stands
in romance, stopping breakers with blue cautious stares.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem