At
The Altar of Incense
The slow ghost
Stopped
And started
Thinking.
Outside
The chapel funereal
The cypresses
Whispered though
It was not yet
Night
But only dusk,
Though deep of red.
In life
Things to us attach
Mostly by order of
The Law:
But the Law faints
At the door of the cemetery:
For there
Other laws, if any,
Reign
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem