it is the will of the light
that wings over the city
through calm through
storm denouncing the
fragrance of home of
sanctuary in a manner of
definitive pain trickling
with the unmindful rain
slowly opening up the
ground the light piercing
the darkness of the chasms
and creating a strident music
of bathos that knows
where the acrimony is
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem