I started
With the stars:
The stars
The stars
So far outside
The besieged
City,
How distant
From society
And
Shopping malls,
Feral like
Wolves,
They haven’t
Speech
They do not make love;
They are but
Senseless wonder:
The womb,
The kiln,
Unmolested by
This art,
They remain just
As beautiful
As the child
Before it learns
Its rules,
And stands up
To move into
Mortal congratulations,
Articulate though corrupted,
The finite world of
Its first word.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem