In prisms that happen outside of
School,
The fish swim upwards to look at knights—
Boys on quests with fireworks,
Waving their banners
And their swords—
Making friends with hypochondriacs
Who wave at them from their uneven windows—
Say now that they are uncertain if they are
Even alive—each of their televisions
Their motivations sanctuaries and wishing well—
Maybe after dark they will come and see
You after work—your lips to quaff, your love
To strive—for you are
The nocturnal aphrodisiac of their nocturnal
Heroics when they should be home counting
Sheep and dreaming of lesser girls
And marrying them through Christmases and holidays
Of lives of lesser weeks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem