Awakening onto the patios where the sea has first leapt
And then ran away,
Coming to in the morning of the parking lots and her grayed
Ear lopes:
It is like I have driven up to her later day school again
In the earliest of morning hours
When I didn’t know what I should care for, while the world was
Still young and wild:
Then Michael was born, and Sharon was still curling warm
Clays around her hip;
And Alma was right here in Florida while the strange jungles were
Still growing,
And the stewardesses were still leaping right over all the boys
In their bed, in a chorus line of wishes,
And the house that I am in now was still right here,
And the ceiling fans turned like the weather, like the heroes dancing
With the villains and each of their sisters-
All the bodies giving off their little sighs from the vines of another
Sightless world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem