the day the father
found a dreck-beetle
and put it in his new son-in-law's lunchbox....
it was a misty beginning
to a propitious long march....
the elevator to the scaffold was waiting....for good....
as the hatter's mercury was rising, damp...
rubriant as pintoed koi,
tabled tennis balls
bounced their last....
flung
in the marsh as the redwings dispatched..
rode
the wire to the next egret....no egress..
.no...Noh....a thousand and two times as sloughwise.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i was born to blind parents.. it makes me try..iip