swift cathedral of alms
built amidst the roof
of palms of the high heavens
floating in the spaces and
rounds celestial.
amidst
the
hails
of
adrenalin
of
heaven
a
Chorus
sings
you see, you see,
this type of poesy
the verses fly, the
images gyrate and now
you here be another second
there
and yet
in a few seconds
everywhere.
I hear the sea-waves
swinging
and in their swinging
they be roaring:
roaring
up the caves
up the coves
up the low hills dark
and granite rocks
nocturnal.
hear!
Hear!
the cry goes round
A posse of bats
flies
low skimming the sea
enraged and calmed
you see, my Monsignor,
in a few verses
too
from civilization to
civilization
we go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem