If you do not know of the poems of the efficiencies of my
Echoes,
I promise you will not survive in the classrooms of
My hypnosis-
I am the joy that happens in the playground of
Drunken arrowheads and roses—
I am the silence that sleeps forever underneath the mountains—
And when I see a transparency between your shoulder blades,
I will not call you out—I will just wait for something else to happen:
For the sky to become beautiful,
Or for today to be painted by all of you tomorrows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem