I saw her there and held my breath
While the busses were turning around like equal marionettes
In the counterclockwise lamentations of a funnel
Cloud;
And even though she had turned her rears to me, and walked
Away with him; it was as if I could see her acceptance
Taking shape like a metamorphosis crawling out of
Nap time into the crepuscules of music class
In which the rhythms of young bodies get up and bow,
Hoods congratulating the soft encouragements of the young
Teachers getting experience permeated by the airconditioning;
Until it was all a hoot, and the things that were
In fact never seen,
Still called out until there was darkness through the mowed
Grass and then into the lounging cypress like feral
Christmas trees, and it went that way following and seeming
To light her path with such blindness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem