When I sleep my thoughts grow dim
as stars when city lights turn on
and I spin dreams like spider webs. Limb
over limb I comb the fine chiffon
of sleep. Images in fine mesh shake
to free themselves and I must strive
to coil the strands of gossamer I make
to seal the tomb while the image is alive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful poem with philosophical thoughts well- composed, comparisons are really beautiful. if you find time please read some of my poems and leave your comments