The fields
Cut clear square
Rectangular
With precision to prevent
The court:
Yet
To the moon that
Precision is troubling
But the moon
Has yet
To stay with it:
The moon did not learn
The bitter lessons from
The winter.
Dived
When feeling the rash
Of the night dews
From above her on her
Semi-Burning skin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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