If you drive into the fire you will see how the
Fire works, how the deer and the bear run over even the finest
Of maidens-
How the tourists stop to listen and count the antlers
Running alongside the road,
Until even they are consumed: the sun is a muted thing,
A king twisted in his throne, and gagged by a witch who is cackling
As she burns all of the pretty horses of a heedless knight:
There he is on the ridge of empty trees with my mother:
All silver as they feed the horses,
The flames surrounding him- even the reintroduced wolves
Have run away.
What can I say to him that he will not laugh at? What can I promise
Him that he will not disbelieve?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem