Destiny isn't that
A pan-fried fish?
That just couldn't
Have been any other dish
But look too at its silver gills
It's open and closed paused mouth.
Note the lilting silence of a passing breath
The cadence fall, the rising of it all
Note the frosted-glass panel. This isn't death
When these patterns melt and fade, do not gall
In that heart, there was a truer, purer, nature,
There is a blessed rainfall… An overhaul
A windfall… Where art has magic yet to conjure.
That drabbest censor goes back into the thrall
After all …No stars… prosaic light
Ever dined alone or diminished one solitary night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
no stars.. prosaic light.. I like it, thanks.