~for Jackson C. Frank
It seems almost too far fetched really,
too difficult to believe.
This unassuming moon shining like a copper plate.
These milkcrate blues.
This soft trellis of sound
wobbling through the wind
as if pouring out from the windows
of some lonely house on the hill.
How beautiful it is,
the ghost of your voice
haunting this empty valley.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem