so without a heaven
we look around and back
we must look back
and forward in tomorrow
not to a voice of yesterday
but to the images
the primal
those can never be ignored
so without a guide
we find the dew of spring
slithering juicy things
the nest of all of life
this we must protect
this we must project
not a faded tragic scrim
but the anxious quavering
in swampy insouciance
we must contemplate
reviving the essences
an Eden of insurrection
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem