The road was slick.
The black ink on the road
left a crooked question mark
sprinkled with rocks.
Two pink dice
hung by a string
from the antenna-
instead of the mirror.
The pure satin sheet swung
through the air. Except
for a snag in the fabric
creased by a silver hoop earring.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem