Oh the joy fainting through the carnival,
Riding itself through the fair weathers of January-
While love is upon a lark,
Upon a jetliner- and all of the green in Mexico
Couldn’t take her away-
Files and orders of parades, the star-crossed
Rituals,
Balloons strung upon trees with shoes-
The grottos weep beneath the gasping mouths of
Traffic: the birds themselves are tied to tiny
Profusions of air:
Their job is to mine the sweet metamorphosis,
Pulling her down and making love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem