Think only of naps
and salutes to the sun
and you mistake
its deep ambitions.
It is saving up fire
like a crack gone cold
hoarding its energies
for a single exertion.
Hang heads who thought
there was no flight
and gravity is destiny,
that old age clips gray wings.
Behold one ancient angel
Tripping down stone steps,
leaping into the arms
of the faithful beloved.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem