The Lover Bat
it eats the time
it eats its pain
it eats its suffering
the lover bat
it has a bat
it loves
though
winter comes
it does not
in the least
fan low that lover-flame
that summer lit
and autumn fanned
and winter made more lit:
no, no lover bat
you
couple
the flames high, still high,
do blow, do grow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem