The night love was shone on the river of shadows,
I became the blameworthy one, for rivers were red.
The days learned and learned and earned,
To give an insect the strength to cope for fullness.
Why do your gifts outweigh my soul with its splendour?
The presents that arrive and approach me are sounds,
Mere figures of speech so resolute and dim and smart,
Like the words of oblivion, ruinous rivers and right.
I have a gate to enter, to forsake the one who believes
In me, so that nights shall be called days by rights,
By the legal system, and by the scouts of darkness,
Those scouts we seek are the very spies of ruin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem