The Blind Blue.
It was thoughtless noon,
The astronomical watch claimed so,
No visible darkness did the eye borrow,
And in the sense there was no tomorrow,
Nor the yesterdays cast any shadow,
The earthen imagination bubbled not to Godot.
i. It was a hang of weightless weight,
Without dismayed heaven and parental bed.
Was it the sinking grey sun?
Or the would-be dawn before the morn?
Or the dirge of the forest as clarion?
Perhaps the probable, for no probable,
The eternal current with no cable,
It may be between the gentle and the terrible.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a great poem in all of its content. Thanks.