Under the preponderant clouds
wishing mist on the outskirts of cities
The crowd roves and raves
Speaking with the hearts of dead men
Wheezy with their instruments,
the black satin leaves them standing on
their own
besmirched with a sticky forgetfulness
wondering how it turned.
And, in another room
The men awake, as though just
remembering
A long voyage to the center of a thin
rope
Somewhere in the clouds
Evocative. It creates a sense of hovering for the reader, and reduction. But maybe the final stanza is uplifting?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you, Michelle, again for your comment.