530
You cannot put a Fire out—
A Thing that can ignite
Can go, itself, without a Fan—
Upon the slowest Night—
You cannot fold a Flood—
And put it in a Drawer—
Because the Winds would find it out—
And tell your Cedar Floor—
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
....oh wow, brilliant...i like this alot...especially the second stanza ★