Glass carnival,
Or reach far enough to ever taste the vineyards at
The fingertips winnowing from
From the stain glassed windmills sweated off the
Delusional brows of the preternatural
Stewardesses who wish to, once again,
Believe they are angels
Brushing the canvasses of the unreachable heavens.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem