Out of slumber I awaken
A dream so unsettling
By a vision taken
my poems, crumbling
Dry words dissolving into dust
lifted in bibulous clouds by the wind
where with moldy scent of must
no polished rust erosion could rescind
Cobwebbed sites on which I'd written
to plastic novelic prose fallen prey
Poetry's beauty book smitten
splintered shadows of another day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem