Now I am down for awhile, underneath the planets,
Just as if I was a crèche of airplanes
Slumbering:
Just as if maybe you loved her for a little while,
But then you had to become all stuck up,
While this is just my dream repeating:
Maybe you don’t even have to hold out, silent
Song beautifully managed between the
Breasts of the canyons:
Maybe this is just how I pretend to dissolve,
As the heavens matriculate before the management
Of the better tenements:
Maybe this is just how they do their thing, singing through
Their bereavements, their flagella struggling
Like freshmen:
And this is just a new song in which they have to peruse themselves,
Trying to become better lovers,
While I can stand out and swear, like a unicorn, like
A werewolf,
That this is just the bouquet of another slumber echo- and
I don’t even have to manage to be here-
And I want you now,
But in your houses, the angels sing in their cages,
Of the wonderful but obtainable possibilities of tomorrow,
And tomorrow, and tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem