The telling of this right steady body
Could dance in the crazy moonlight.
Wells of velvety muddy water were to sprout
And dance in the waters of the night.
A small telling right was bestowed on us,
To stop at nothing through muddy waters.
He brought the marriages of the night
To a standstill with a saxophone blurting outside.
The trumpet of the last call was not so
Butchering as that brass instrument of the light.
Many married under the sights of a man or
Other man who wore woes too splendidly.
I remember the righteous men in silk stockings
Who marched in the nice night, the righteous wait.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem